The Crimson Rose
by Zen Lady
Summary: The Surprise is ordered to escort an unlikely intelligence agent. Can Jack and Stephen unravel the unspoken secrets? The characters are cobbled together from the books & the movie.
1. The Widow

Notes:  
I have been promising to write this for ages and now finally have the time and inclination. Thanks to the Lady Legrace for spurring me on.

For some time, I have had a love-hate relationship with the Stephen Maturin of the O'Brian novels. That evolved into utter adoration when I watched Paul Bettany, an actor I admire greatly, bring him to life. In undertaking this fiction, however, I am truly stuck between canon and the movie-verse. I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Tom Pullings, ever since he was described as "a big shy silent master's mate" in the novel _Master and Commander_ and especially after the disfiguring wound, when "a glancing blow from a Turkish saber had sliced off most of his forehead and nose" (_Treason's Harbour_). The scars on the actor in the movie made him look more attractive, of course, not horribly disfigured. So, which one do I use? Maybe a combination of both.

In fact, it's what I've had to do with everything, take the characters of the movie and adjust them a bit according to my skewed view, then add in a different plotline. I also have a terrible habit of historical inaccuracies, plus I steal blindly from every seafaring story I know – from Odysseus to Horatio Hornblower, from Long John Silver to Marko Ramius. So, I figure I can just do my best and enjoy it and hope that some of you will enjoy reading it.

Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

* * *

**The Widow**

The captain groaned inwardly as the guest came aboard. Not a woman only but a redhead as well! He hated having women aboard and, superstitious as any sailor, considered it unlucky. On dry land, he adored women and was not impartial to redheads; however, the same was not true at sea, and the thought of the long ordeal ahead with this woman aboard blackened his usually cheerful disposition. Had not been directly ordered by Admiral Bellows, he would have tried to find a way out of this cruise; since there was none, he had gritted his teeth and agreed.

Mrs. Stirling was a tall, handsome woman, younger than he had expected, and had a good figure. Dressed in a modest wool gown of deep violet befitting a widow, a cloak of pilot cloth, and a decidedly unfashionable flat-brimmed hat, her striking dark eyes and angular, pretty face were emphasized. The garment flattered her rounded figure; altogether, she promised trouble on the voyage ahead.

"Welcome aboard, Mrs. Stirling." Determined to make the best of a bad situation, he took off his hat and bowed formally.

"It is an honor to be here, captain," she replied with an elegant curtsy. Her voice was low and pleasant.

"May I present my officers? First Lieutenant Pullings, Second Lieutenant Mowett, Sailing Master Allen, Captain Howard of the Royal Marines, and Doctor Maturin." The men saluted her and she smiled and nodded to each one. Then her fine dark eyes were back on Jack. "The men will bring your luggage to your cabin – ah, I see that you have brought a sea chest."

Her servant had heaved the mentioned chest up and set it on deck where they could see that it was carved on the edges and painted with twined flowers. In the center was carved her name:

_R. Flint _Stirling

The two carvings had been done at different times by different hands and the men studied it for a moment.

"My late husband was captain as was my late father," she informed them. "I am an experienced sea-bird, sir, and am accustomed to shipboard life. My mother used to say that I had sea-water in my veins."

"Then, you are doubly welcome," he added, feeling slightly relieved. "Would you do me the honor of taking a glass of wine with me in the cabin in memory of Captain Stirling, then?"

"I should be delighted," she replied with a smile.

"Excellent. Doctor, Mr. Pullings, will you join us? Mr. Mowett, you have the deck."

Jack escorted the lady with the others following, and he seated her between himself and Stephen. She removed her hat and cloak and they could see she was a pretty woman with the dark eyes they had all first noticed, slashing dark brows, and the windblown pink of health so attractive in a woman used to outdoor activities. Masses of reddish chestnut hair were woven up in a simple style worn by many women who went to sea with their husbands.

"You are very welcome here, ma'am," said Jack as he poured a fine dry red for the four of them. "I knew your husband a little. He was Captain Richard Stirling out of Bristol, was he not?"

A look of astonishment appeared on her face, then a slow smile spread across her lips. "He was, sir. With a brother of the same rank, it is not always my Captain Stirling whom people knew."

"An excellent seaman, as I remember, and very tall. Quite different than the brother in appearance."

"Do you mean to say that there were two men sailing ships out of Bristol who answered to Captain Stirling?" asked Stephen incredulously.

"There were indeed." Mrs. Stirling shook her head at Jack, smiling sadly. "Your recollection is remarkable, sir."

"Let us drink to his memory, then." He lifted his glass. "To Captain Richard Stirling, a fine seaman and a good man."

"Captain Richard Stirling." They all drank and there was a little pause as sadness settled for a moment on the widow. "We lost him four years ago," she said in a wistful tone. Then, she smiled around at them. "Now, both our boys are gone to sea and so I am a sea-bird with an empty nest."

"Have the lads gone to the ship of their uncle?" asked Jack, for it was custom in seafaring families.

"No," she said slowly. She looked seriously at the three men. "I need to speak plainly now, sir, and I hope you will listen to all I have to say before passing judgment."

"Indeed we shall," Jack assured her. "Admiral Bellows was cryptic in his information about you and wrote that you would enlighten us upon coming aboard."

"Before I do, let me say that I was told explicitly to speak freely before Captain Aubrey and Doctor Maturin," she told them. "No mention was made of your lieutenant, though, so I ask you to make the judgment here, sir."

Pullings got to his feet. "Forgive me, ma'am. I shall retire so you may speak in secret."

"Nonsense," said the captain. "Sit down, Mr. Pullings. I assure you, Mrs. Stirling, that you may say anything in front of Mr. Pullings that you intend to say to me."

"Very well." She cast an apologetic look at Pullings. "I meant no offense to you, sir."

"There was no offense, ma'am," he replied graciously.

She nodded, then slowly turned to Jack. "My husband's name was Stirling, but the name I was born with was Rose Flint. I saw how you noticed my old sea chest, and I expect you have deduced the rest."

"Flint was your father?" Jack asked, frowning at her.

"Flint?" repeated Pullings in shock.

"Forgive me, but I don't follow," Stephen broke in. "Who was Flint?"

Her lovely dark eyes turned to him. "My father was Captain John Flint, the pirate."

"Pirate!" exclaimed Stephen in amazement.

"The French and Dutch were so prodigiously afraid of him that honest seamen were proud that he was an Englishman," Pullings told him.

"My mother ran off with a disreputable sailor. They were married and she stayed with him the rest of her life. I was born aboard the _Walrus_ and grew up there. I became a tolerable seaman as a child, and odd as it may seem, I learned social graces from my mother. When she passed away, I was sent to a ladies' school. After that, I returned to the _Walrus,_ which was shorthanded, and my father had me as his quartermaster. The hands had known me all my life, you see, and there have been female pirates throughout history, so it was not difficult taking orders from a woman."

"Quartermaster on a pirate's ship is similar to sailing master in his majesty's navy," Jack explained to Stephen, but he still eyed the lady with distaste.

"I was able to set a course and sail the ship, but I was not of the temperament for battle. Well, the first prize we took was hard fought, though I participated only in the handling of the ship and not in the fighting. Their captain was badly wounded and taken prisoner." She smiled sadly. "That captain was Richard Stirling, and I helped him to escape and hence left that life. We were married and the assizes granted me clemency for exchange of information. Thus, I became an honest captain's wife and informant for the crown."

"Informant," repeated Stephen without inflection in his voice.

"Yes, sir, and it is for that reason that you bear me on this voyage." She took another sip of her wine. "Well, captain, that is the plain truth. I shall leave it to your judgment to decide what you would like your crew to know about me."

"Let me be certain that I understand," said Stephen. "You are a pirate by birth, but you left that life when you fell in love with your victim. You then escaped punishment by becoming a spy."

A rueful smile appeared on her face. "That is it in a nutshell, doctor."

"Extraordinary."

"I was never a pirate," Mrs. Stirling assured them. "I sailed my father's ship and had no taste for battle."

Jack considered her words. "I have no wish to start speculation in the crew, so let us keep this among us and not speak of it. Mrs. Stirling, you are merely my guest on this ship and the widow of a fine seaman."

"Very well, sir. I am quite able to hold my peace."

"Do not think that I hold your past against you, ma'am. We have all done things in our youths that we regret. As the magistrates have passed judgment, so we shall all abide."

After the lady had departed and Pullings went up on deck to oversee the preparations to sail, Jack drained his glass and fixed the doctor with a pointed look. "Well, what do you think of our passenger?"

"It is remarkable that she speaks so easily and artlessly. Did you sense any untruth in what she said? Or guile of any type?"

"I did not."

"Nor did I." Stephen stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The French and the Spanish have spies as we do, and the female of the species is infinitely dangerous. This lady seems hardly the type for the deception necessary in such employment."

"No, she does not." Jack poured himself another glass and took a swallow. "A pretty woman is often dangerous enough. When you add in the word deception, I begin to feel uneasy."

"Then you doubt the veracity of her story?"

"No. Admiral Bellows hinted at this in his letter." Jack got up and paced the length of the room. "This whole business rests ill with me. A gentlewoman, a captain's widow, going into danger for King and Crown. And the mere notion of piracy is enough to unsettle the coarsest seadog."

"She was markedly reluctant to speak of the children. Do you think that after her husband's death they were taken from her?"

"I think not, especially with the brother still alive to protect them."

"True, yet there is some part of this puzzle that is now hidden from us."


	2. Make Sail

**Make Sail**

By the time Jack went up on deck, all hands were busy and he had Pullings pass the order to weigh anchor. When he went up to the quarterdeck, he found Mrs. Stirling standing back and well out of the way, silent and motionless, her eyes turned up to the rigging. She wore her cloak and flat brimmed hat and looked every inch a captain's wife. Yes, the lady was a sea-bird who had been too long ashore. No other creature could gaze so affectionately at the shrouds of a man-o-war and the crying gulls that soared above. The annoyance he felt at having a female aboard was tempered when he imagined himself confined below deck while the ship – any ship – was making sail. No, the place for any true seaman was on deck at such a time, and Mrs. Stirling had taken the most unobtrusive position possible. She knew she would be perfectly out of the way there.

When she saw him, her expression changed. Looking up, she had seemed vibrant and alive, transported to bliss, yet serene and relaxed. It was as one coming home with all the complex emotions experienced upon such an occasion. Now she was startled, and a slight worried frown turned down her brows as she looked uncertainly at him. It was clear enough what she was thinking. Not familiar with him, she was worried that she had come on deck without permission and he would order her below. Not so cruel, he merely nodded before striding off to be about his business.

The men were in high spirits and went about their jobs joyfully. There was hard, backbreaking work to be done, and those weighing anchor grunted and sweated, their bare backs glistening, as they pushed the wooden capstan bars. The sprightly young midshipmen reminded him of young goats, springing from deck to rail to rigging with energy he vaguely remembered having. One or two cast glances at the form of Mrs. Stirling, the violet of her gown standing out and the deep red of her hair not completely hidden up in her hat.

Interesting. He watched his crew more carefully now. In all of sea life, there were few times more exciting than making sail before a long voyage, and the men performed their tasks expertly and with gusto, for the joy and excitement of the new voyage was bursting from their hearts. There was something else, though. The lady stood watching from the quarterdeck, a pretty, elegant lady, and the men knew she was a captain's widow. They performed _for_ her, he now saw. They wanted their ship to be seen in the best light. Jack had seen such things before. Even captains and admirals, men who were respected and feared at sea, capered like fools before a pretty woman.

It was considered unlucky to go to sea with a redhead, and having a woman aboard was thought to make the sea angry. How much worse a redheaded woman! Still, it was good motivation for the crew to work harder, better, and more cheerfully. Women were a devil to have aboard, and the _Surprise_ carried no wives; however, one of the few benefits of having one was the desire of the crew to impress her. Knowing the ways of shipboard life, Jack mused, a lady of Mrs. Stirling's appearance and experience must be intimately aware of the effect her presence had upon a ship full of men. In all probability, any woman would know how to employ the effect. The crew would have to be watched, he knew, and not be given idle time. Other than that, he hoped that the lady's temperament would prove to be even and gentle and that the dangerous cruise would be quick and painless as possible.


	3. Quarterdeck Salon

**

* * *

**

Quarterdeck Salon

As the guest of the captain, Mrs. Stirling was invited to dine with him or take her meals in her own cabin. It was the doctor's custom to dine in the Great Cabin as well, and he found it interesting to spend more time speaking with the lady. For the most, she said little of herself and, instead, kept the men busy talking and telling tales of their adventures. Overall, the lady kept a simple, friendly countenance and, despite her attractiveness, proved to be as diverting a companion as an intelligent young man.

The weather proved to be fine though cool, and the lady took to sitting at the back of the quarterdeck. She always kept out of the way and was friendly and pleasant to all the men. The doctor often sat with her or invited her to peruse his books, for she had an interest in the living things he studied. Conversation with her revealed, however, that it had more to do with unusual spiritual beliefs than with pure scientific curiosity.

"My father used to say that gulls held within them the souls of sailors who had been lost at sea," she told him early in their friendship, squinting to watch the birds that still accompanied them, for they were not yet far from land.

"Do you believe in previous incarnations, then, Mrs. Stirling?" he asked curiously.

She laughed and flushed guiltily. "It does seem to make perfect sense out here," she answered. "I was not raised a Christian, which is no great problem unless one lives with landsmen."

"And then it is considered a flaw of one's character?" he asked.

"For certain, sir, and I have been told I am going to hell with no hope of redemption by more than one well-meaning acquaintance."

"Well, then, do you believe in hell?"

"I do not. Such tales seem to me closer to mythology or even children's stories." Realizing what she had said, she regarded him with her brows raised. "Upon my word, doctor, it is remarkably easy to talk with you. I hope my remarks are taken in a spirit of lightheartedness, for I am merely uncommonly pleased to be at sea again."

"On the contrary, ma'am, it is of great interest to me to hear. After all my time at sea, I have never before heard anything similar about gulls."

Their place at the rear of the quarterdeck slowly evolved into a genteel salon. In the warmest part of the day, Mrs. Stirling busied herself with some needlework; however, it was often chilly and she kept gloves upon her hands. Mowett, the second lieutenant, and Captain Howard were cheerful, affable men with ready charm and engaged the lady in conversation often, laughing with ease and good humor and entertaining both the lady and the doctor.

Pullings, who had been denied promotion numerous times throughout his career because of his humble birth and lack of connections, was diffident where ladies were concerned and said nothing more than "Good day, ma'am," when he could not avoid it. Allen, the sailing master, was a former whaler and suffered painful shyness when in company. He had worked his way up from able seaman to sailing master through years and experience. More acutely than Pullings, who was from a modest background of farmers and warrant officers, he had no friends of influence and was ignorant of the social graces.

Jack tolerated her presence well but seemed to avoid the quarterdeck altogether when she was there, spending his time instead on the business of running the ship or working through the piles of papers he had from lawyers and estate agents. Despite his amorous behavior when in port, Jack had several times said that naval wives were considered sacrosanct to him, unless, of course, he qualified it, a lady sent out clear signals to the opposite effect. Clearly, Mrs. Stirling had done nothing of the kind and treated the captain with respect and the same open friendliness with which she treated all of them.

Stephen observed the interaction as he would the mating dance of insects: that is, with great interest. Obviously she was used to the banter and wit of seafaring men and accepted their admiration, always very respectful, without fits of priggishness or flirtatiousness. Still, she was not as transparent as she appeared: in the first few days, he came to notice a certain coolness for Captain Howard, and indeed all the marines, which he soon diagnosed as a deep and profound dislike. The truth was that she hid it expertly; however, she was straightforward and friendly with the others, and her slightly aloof attitude towards Howard was telling, at least to Stephen. No one else seemed to notice it, at least not yet, and he hoped to find an opportunity to draw her out on the subject.

* * *


	4. The Captain's Table

**The Captain's Table**

The captain was in the habit of having the officers dine with him every week, and so when he passed the invitation to Pullings, he also had Mrs. Stirling informed, for he knew that ladies liked extra time to prepare themselves for such things. Late morning, Stephen startled him by mentioning that he had best not seat Mrs. Stirling close by Captain Howard because the lady could not abide him. This news shocked him at first, for he found it incredible that such an easy-going woman could take such a strong dislike to an honorable gentleman. Then he considered Howard's arrogance and occasional insufferable boorishness. A gentleman of high birth, Howard had a habit of speaking in a condescending manner that set his teeth on edge.

As was usual, the officers turned up in their dress uniforms, all combed, brushed, and polished and wearing medals earned in action. They stood about waiting for the lady. The captain was to sit at the head of the table with Mrs. Stirling on his right, then Doctor Maturin and the unfortunate Captain Howard. On the captain's left would be Mr. Pullings, Mr. Allen, and Mr. Mowett. The table was set with his best damask cloth and silver, and he poured out glasses of claret while they waited for their final guest.

"Should be a fast passage and a fair wind for the Caribbean," Mowett was saying to Captain Howard, and then there was a falling of silence, for Mrs. Stirling stood in the doorway. For the formal dinner, the lady had changed from her woolen day gown into an evening gown of deep blue silk with her mass of red hair arranged more formally. The décolletage was modest by the current fashion, but they were accustomed to seeing her in her widow's frock. For a long moment, Jack's eyes feasted on the charming lady. In a ballroom or an opera house, Mrs. Stirling would be one woman among many pretty girls in their daring frocks. Here in the Great Cabin on the _Surprise_, however, the lady held their attention easily.

Stephen did not see it quite that way. At first, he too was distracted by the curved bosom revealed by the gown. He quickly recovered and evaluated her dispassionately. She could not be called beautiful, for she had a strong jaw and prominent chin, which was said to denote stubbornness. There was one thing about her, though, one subtle thing that he had not fully noticed until now. Her wide eyes, uncertain expression, soft white throat… She looked at them with aching, painful vulnerability that roused all that was potent and male in them, not least of which was natural protectiveness.

In that moment, with diamond clarity, he saw that she had the power to drive them apart, to set them against one another, to conquer each man by means of his instincts. He knew that there was no more dangerous creature on earth than a pretty, young, vulnerable woman – why had he not realized it before now?

Gallant and gentlemanly, they all greeted her politely and with smiles to make her feel more welcome. Jack rattled on amiably as he showed her to her seat and saw that she had some wine to sip. Very shortly, the soup course was served and she looked more comfortable and at ease.

"Mrs. Stirling, may I ask how you like sailing aboard the _Surprise_?" Mowett asked her with his unaffected charm. "Now that you have had a chance to settle into the life."

"I like it very well, thank you, Mr. Mowett. In fact, I have not had the opportunity of sailing upon a warship before. Mr. Allen, I expect you would be the best man to compare a civilian ship to one of his majesty's, being a master mariner before taking up active service."

"Indeed, I was taken up and given a warrant after twenty years at sea, mostly in the Pacific," he replied, his heavy, florid face flushed both with wine as well as with embarrassment at having been singled out.

"What would you say, then, is the biggest, the most dramatic difference between the two?"

"I must say it is the discipline, ma'am. Unlike the merchant navy, which you are familiar with, whalers receive no wages, only a share of the profit. It is a rare man upon a whaling ship who does not break his back with effort, but the hierarchy is vastly different. In that way, you may see there is a great similarity between a merchant and a whaler – the captain and his mates have no higher authority, no orders to follow from the admiralty."

The others added in comments and opinions on Allen's remarks, and Mrs. Stirling's next question was something specific and complicated about the ship itself – something Stephen did not understand at all – but had something to do with the distribution of what supplies the _Surprise_ carried in her hold and the adjustment of her back stays.

There was unusual quiet among the others that Stephen did not, at first understand. Mowett turned to look at the lady with his brows raised, and Allen regarded her with round eyed surprise, his mouth slightly ajar. Jack, he noticed, kept a neutral expression with a slight flicker of a frown, and Pullings seemed more amused that anything else. Then, very enthusiastically, Allen began to explain, and a long-winded and tedious quarter-hour passed as he talked. His speech was peppered liberally with coarse language and epithets that the lady ignored, and she listened in silence but with great attention to everything that he said.

The others occasionally interrupted him to add commentary, and Mrs. Stirling asked something further, encouraging the sailing master to speak freely and at length. He spoke as he would to one of the men. Stephen knew that Mr. Allen had no other common topic to talk about with their guest, and she had known exactly what to say to put him at ease in her presence. Yet, she did it so artlessly! Ladies often made it a game to see how many conquests they could make, how many admirers they could gather, but certainly, there was nothing to be gained in engaging the affections of a fat, ill-spoken, middle-aged warrant officer. It seemed, even to Stephen's practiced and jaded eye, that she had a sincere interest in what he had to say.

During Mr. Allen's monologue, his mind had wandered, but he became attentive again when he heard Captain Howard address himself to Mrs. Stirling. "I have not had the pleasure of knowing your brother-in-law, ma'am, but I am slightly acquainted with your sister-in-law." He had to lean slightly forward to see the lady around Stephen. "For, is she not Mrs. Pitt? Mrs. Colonel Jeremy Pitt?"

"She is, sir." The expression on her face had changed in an instant and she was wary, guarded. Stephen watched her carefully, for his instincts were piqued.

"Capital fellow, Colonel Pitt. He is now with the Governor in the Bahamas as Captain at Arms, of course. I dined with him once or twice before that posting and had the opportunity to meet Mrs. Pitt. Perhaps you are going to visit them in Nassau?"

Mrs. Stirling had grown a little pale and she looked down at the tabletop, searching for words. "I do not know, sir. That is, I do not mean to visit them, though it may be that our paths will cross." She looked at Captain Howard then, with pain apparent in her expression. "I do not have contact with that part of the family."

Glancing at the head of the table, Stephen saw both Jack and Pullings frowning, though the captain recovered mastery a second later. "My dear, allow me to recharge your glass. Bottle, Mr. Pullings, for Mrs. Stirling's glass is empty." All attention turned to him as he made a great show of pouring more wine for her. "Now, I am told that you have two lads gone to sea. I would hazard a guess that they are currently serving as midshipmen."

"You are perfectly correct, sir," she said, though she did not adjust to the rapid segue for another second. "The elder sailed with the _Coventry_, and the younger is with Capten Hawkes on the _Gallant_."

"And are the young Stirlings competent seamen?" he asked with a grin. "It would be a fine thing to have aboard some boys who are of some bloody use rather than the idle wastrels we usually get amidships."

"For certain, sir, and they are both far more able than most others and would not have been permitted to go had they not been, for they are under the usual age."

"Well, we shall keep a weather eye out for the _Gallant_ to see if we can have the lad transferred over. The _Coventry_ has gone into the Pacific at present, but I suppose one able midshipman is better than none at all!"

"May I ask how old the boys are?" asked Pullings politely.

"Silvester is just ten and Christopher is eight," she told them. "But they are tall and pretty-behaved lads."

"Eight!" exclaimed Mowett. "I would think that no child under twelve would be taken as a midshipman."

"No doubt they are far superior seamen to their messmates," said Jack with a telling glance at the second lieutenant. "One seamanlike reefer is worth a dozen raw hands, upon my honor. In my own recollection, at that age, I was little better than any of the lads we have now and a fair sight worse." He laughed at himself and began to share an anecdote about the beginning of his career and the company was diverted from the earlier uncomfortable atmosphere.

It also gave Stephen a chance to mull over what he had heard. First, there was some fierce bad blood between Mrs. Stirling and her in-laws, if not something worse. Second, her sons had been compelled to go to sea, whether by force or not, several years younger than was usually permitted. Finally, and most importantly, whereas she had the ability to twist men effortlessly about her little finger, she had little skill for disguising her strong emotions.

After the meal, Jack requested that Killick bring them their coffee above and asked the lady to take a turn about the deck. The others trailed after them, and Stephen, the ideas now banished to mill about only in his subconscious, fell in step with Pullings as he lit himself a cigar. Over the years, he had developed a fondness for Jack's favorite subordinate, and as the only man on the ship other than he and Jack who knew of Mrs. Stirling's past, he made a particularly interesting companion at the moment.

"Well, Tom, what can you say of Mrs. Stirling's two lads taken into service so young?" he asked in a quiet voice so as not to be overheard.

The lieutenant's ingenuous face was unusually grave. "It is obvious that she has been ill-used by her brother-in-law. What sort of man would prey upon a helpless widow? And what monstrous dilemma forced her to send those little children away at such a tender age?"

The idea was a new one to Stephen, and the ferocity with which the words were spoken was unwonted from the agreeable Pullings. "You think the fate of her sons is directly tied to some nefarious behavior on the part of Colonel Pitt?"

Pullings looked at him aghast. "Of course. Was it not obvious?"

Stephen drew slowly on the cigar. The theory made perfect sense, but there was too little that he knew and too much that he did not know to make even an educated guess; yet, the lady did not dissemble. The very real anger and pity that Pullings was expressing was a result of witnessing the very real distress that Mrs. Stirling had been unable to hide. When he took some coffee and looked at where Jack was telling her something to make her laugh, Stephen knew that he did not have nearly enough information to theorize. More observation and collection of data was necessary before he could do so.


	5. Sightings

**Sightings**

Over the next three days, the weather grew warmer, but the wind held and the _Surprise_ made good use of it. She was generally a happy ship, and the presence of a handsome woman had all of them, the crew as well as the officers, on their best behavior. Clean shirts and neck cloths were worn, hands and faces were washed daily despite the dearth of fresh water, and the ubiquitous coarse language almost disappeared. One particularly warm fine day, Stephen overheard Mr. Hollar, the bosun, roar at a clumsy hand. "What's the matter with you... you incompetent fool?"

The officers were always clean-shaven with their waistcoats buttoned up, boots polished, and coats freshly brushed. Mr. Allen came to regard their passenger almost as an equal and was often at her side, telling one of his complicated tales or even asking her opinion on the sailing of the ship, to which she always replied with great respect and deference. It seemed to Stephen that the presence of a handsome young woman who was sweet-natured and totally unattainable was a great motivation for men to uphold naval regulations upon a man-o-war. His one worry was that Jack was more and more looking at her with an amorous glint in his eyes, and the lady indulged him a bit more than she should.

"Mrs. Stirling, doctor, if you please," called Mowett from the waist of the ship at four bells of the morning watch. "You might care to see this."

Curiously, they got up from their usual spot on the quarterdeck and went down to where the lieutenant stood with a few of the crew and several young midshipmen. Out off the starboard rail, near the surface of the clear, blue Atlantic, several sleek dolphins raced with them.

"By the stars," said the lady in excitement. One of them leapt clear out of the water, flashing for a moment in the sunlight, before plunging into the sea again a moment later.

"It is a good omen," Mowett explained to them. "Among the many superstitions that sailors have."

"An excellent omen," she replied thoughtfully, a strange emotion richening her voice. "They are the gods of wind and sea, and they were thought to determine the course of seafarers."

"Indeed they are, ma'am!" Mowett agreed, looking at the lady in surprise. "A good education you've had, if you'll permit me to say."

She smiled at him, flattered a little and moved to joy by the sight of the elegant dolphins; however, some deep sorrow seemed to be shrouding her as she gazed out again. Mowett and Stephen frowned at each other, wondering what sadness could have been provoked by something so beautiful. At that moment, there was a loud cry from above, "Sail, ho! Dead astern!"

"Pardon me," said Mowett, going quickly back to the quarterdeck and taking up his spy-glass. Stephen debated on what to say, and finally asked, "Are you quite well, ma'am?" when he saw some little sparkle of tears in her eyes.

"Perfectly well," she told him although it was obviously not true.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," one of the boys interrupted with a little salute. "With Mr. Pullings compliments, he asks that you dine with the officers in the gunroom this evening."

"Please return the courtesy to Mr. Pullings and tell him I should be honored to dine with them." With a little laugh, she brushed at her eyes and then smiled at Stephen. "All these invitations! I shall never find the opportunity to reciprocate, I fear!"

"It is the custom," he told her. "The captain hosts the officers every week, and Mr. Pullings, as first officer, is host in the gunroom. I am sure that as you are the captain's guest upon this voyage that there is no expectation of any kind of reciprocity."

That evening when the doctor appeared in the gunroom, he found Pullings terribly anxious as the final preparations were made, for he was only used to having the captain as a guest, or perhaps visiting officers from other ships. The appearance of their pretty guest in her blue silk was enough to spur him into action, and not having the experience of hosting such events, he went to great pains to play the host exactly as Jack had done. He need not have worried, for everything went smoothly and Mrs. Stirling was happy and well-entertained by the conversation and sea-yarns that they embellished for her entertainment. After the dinner was underway and the wine was flowing, Pullings seemed to relax a little. Mixed in with a little amusement, Stephen felt quite a bit sorry for the first lieutenant.

Jack, too, noticed how intently the poor fellow was trying to see the dinner go smoothly. With brotherly comradeship, he put out special effort at entertaining the table and even accepted a third helping of pudding which he did not really want. When talk came up of the dolphins, the topic invariably turned to the sail that had been sighted.

"Third day running, sir," Mowett commented.

"Is it the same ship?" asked Mrs. Stirling, for this was the first she had heard of it.

"We can't get a good sight of her, for she keeps just below the horizon," Mr. Allen explained to her. "Only the tops have seen her, and generally only the t'gallants."

"Only the tops?" she repeated, looking rather more serious than the situation warranted.

"Aye, ma'am. Haven't been able to catch a sighting in the glass, not yet."

"And it seems as though we are in for a weather change tomorrow," she added, still frowning.

"More than likely." Jack grinned.

"I shall never understand how you can predict the weather so remarkably easily," Stephen commented.

"It is as clear as is noon to a sea-faring man," Jack told him. "And with whatever gale we get, our friend will have to move in closer if she _is_ following us."

Mrs. Stirling became terribly pale. "Do you think she is truly following us?"

"It may be, but there is certainly nothing to fear," he assured her. "Here, aboard the _Surprise_, you are quite safe."

The lady nodded, but his words seemed to do little to reassure her. Soon afterwards, Pullings offered her his arm in an attempt to emulate the captain's gallantry and took the lady on a little stroll about the quarterdeck. The others took their coffee and Stephen stood talking with Jack as they all enjoyed the sight of an almost supernaturally large full moon.

"That ship worries her greatly," he remarked.

"I wonder why. Certainly none of her pirate companions would dream of going after us. They prey on merchants and would turn tail at the mere sight of our guns."

"Jack, is it Nassau that is our destination?"

The captain shook his head. "No. We are to escort the lady to Savannah in secret. After that, I am to sail the ship where the lady bids me. I believe the destination will be determined when her business there is complete."

"Savannah?" Stephen asked incredulously. Then again: "Savannah?"

"I am as in the dark about it as you, though I know it is quite something serious. No doubt we shall learn more as we get closer," he said with finality. "Now, shall we play a tune, Stephen? I am overfilled, but Pullings beamed at me so when I took the last helping that I did it out of respect for him."

"Your dietary habits will be the death of you," the doctor sighed. "I shall be along presently," he added, indicating his cigar. Glancing back, he stopped to observe when he saw that Mrs. Stirling had seated herself along the taffrail with a good view of the moon and poor Pullings stood uncomfortably, seeming unable to decide if he should sit with the lady or leave her in solitude. Gingerly, he settled beside her, and Stephen edged closer in order to hear what she was saying to him.

"… they lived by cycles, by the rhythms of the Earth. If you think about it, it makes sense. The years turn round and round upon themselves, spring, summer, autumn, and then winter. Again and again, there is always the death and rebirth. They said that the sun is the god, lord of the wild creatures and his body is the bountiful harvest. On the other hand, the moon is the goddess, and we see her aspects every month. The waxing moon we call the maiden, for she is young and fresh. The full moon is the mother, obviously, and the waning moon is the wise crone. The new moon, like winter, is a time of death and rebirth. Thus, you can see how the moon cycles through her aspects, as do the tides of the sea. The goddess is the lady of the moon, the sea, and the earth, for it is from her body that the harvest is brought forth. She is the mother of all life."

"I am not unfamiliar with such tales, for my grandfather has often told me such things. He is a farmer and always says we must live according to the cycles of the Earth."

"He must be a vastly wise man."

"With each year that passes and everything I see in this world, I come to see how truly wise he is."

After a pause, she said, "You are immensely lucky, Mr. Pullings."

He looked up at the moon. "He has never called them god and goddess, only lord and lady. And he certainly has none of your eloquence, ma'am. But several times a year he leaves offerings and thanks them. But it is the same." He looked at her. "Is it not?"

"I believe it is."

He smiled and looked up again at the moon. The silence between them was companionable. Eventually, Mrs. Stirling spoke again. "It has always seemed to me that sailors are something other than landsmen. I have seen many – Christians, Jews, Mohammedans, and many others besides – but when it comes down to it, the sea is always a goddess to us, beloved, powerful, and worthy of reverence."

"Aye, but you and I should have been staked and roasted alive had we talked of this during the time of the Inquisition."

She laughed aloud and he grinned. "I doubt it not!" she declared.

The cigar had burned down too low. Stephen found himself grinning as he tossed the cigar's butt over the side and went below to find Jack was already tuning his violin.


	6. Topman

**Topman**

As expected, the fine weather gave way the next day. When Mrs. Stirling did not breakfast with them, the doctor called at her cabin to invite her to sit with him and read during the inclement weather, but she was not there. As he went back to his surgery, he wondered where she had got to, but he was soon engrossed in a chapter of the _Encyclopedi_æ_ Anatomie_ and time slipped away.

So absorbed was he in the pages of his book that he heard no one approach and was startled by the appearance of two very wet officers in the doorway with rain streaming down in rivulets off their hats and greatcoats. Mr. Mowett was laughing, and with him, Stephen now saw, was Mrs. Stirling in a canvas hat and greatcoat. Looking at the two of them, merry and red-faced, he blinked in surprise. "Have you got into the captain's brandy?"

They both laughed, and Stephen's eyebrows rose even higher. "No, doctor," said Mowett. "You are much mistaken."

"It is very good to be abroad again," sighed the lady, brushing herself off a bit from the water.

"Some of the landsmen took ill in the storm," explained the lieutenant. "And we were shorthanded. Thus, Mrs. Stirling took the place of an idler on the rail – I swear I didn't know who she was."

"I lent a hand. It was not at all dangerous."

Looking at her now, the observant doctor saw a different woman than the gentle lady who sat with him during the quiet afternoons. Flushed from the cold wind, eyes brilliant with excitement, the lady was radiant and fey and reminded him who her parents had been..

"The captain requests that you view Mrs. Stirling as a patient," continued Mowett, "Killick will set hot water for her bath in the Great Cabin, and you are to see that she changes into dry clothes and drinks a good quantity of mulled wine."

"Mr. Mowett, you may assure the captain that this patient is not going to die of a chill," he replied with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "And as for the patient." He turned his eye to her again as Mowett excused himself. "Please go and bathe. Some hot water will do wonders, and we can certainly spare it in this deluge."

She laughed, still glowing with excitement and pleasure, but her eyes and expression were gentle again. "Do not be cross, doctor. You, of all people, must know that wind and rain are the stuff of life, not of illness."

"The stuff of life and death, Mrs. Stirling," he countered.

"One should live before one dies," she teased, then sighed and looked seriously at him. "Let us not quarrel, sir. I am off to obey orders – a hot bath and dry clothes, and then I shall take a mug of mulled wine with you, if you will."

Looking at her now, easy in her brilliance, he wondered if she knew how absolutely irresistible she was like this. Somehow, he thought not. "I will, ma'am, if you but send word when you are prepared to receive me."

"Good." She got up. "Excellent. Give me a half-hour, doctor."

It was closer to an hour later that he found himself settled snugly in the Great Cabin with his mulled wine in his hand. She sat bundled up in a pretty dressing gown with her legs curled under her and her hair drying, and he learned that Jack had promised (probably against his better judgment) to take her aloft the next fair day to espy the pursuing ship. Jack had little ability to refuse a request from an attractive lady. In all the time they had known each other, Stephen had observed that Jack never set out to seduce a woman, he merely made himself as agreeable as possible and smiled whenever he could. Was that what was occurring, he wondered.

As promised, a few days later, Mrs. Stirling stood on deck dressed in loose trousers and a bulky seaman's sweater which covered her nearly to her knees. Although most of her womanly figure was disguised, there was no possibility of mistaking her for a man. Today, her hair was woven into a thick crimson braid that hung down her back, and she wore no hat.

Jack Aubrey had not yet realized, as the doctor had, where his thoughts were leading him, but he was more attentive than ever than Mrs. Stirling. She met his eyes without maidenly blushes, gazing at him with frank admiration that he recognized very well.

When she had asked him to allow her to climb up on the mainmast, he had been ready to promise her anything, to do any errand that she requested. Now, with the men watching, he saw the folly. At first he meant to take back his words, but something stayed him. The ship that was following, if she recognized it… He cursed himself silently. He could not take her aloft, and he could not send her alone. But what if she _could_ recognize the ship?

Finally, he asked Tom Pullings to climb up with her, in case something happened, and then he warned her to obey whatever Pullings told her and not to take any chances. The lieutenant dutifully removed his blue coat and, once up on the hammock-rigging, gave the lady his hand to aid her. Soon, however, all could see that she had no need of any help. She went steadily with Pullings right behind her watching for any sign of faltering or weakness.

Jack moved back so he could follow their progress and was relieved to see how quickly they moved. Still, to him it seemed like ages passed before Mrs. Stirling pulled herself up onto the crosstrees and stood high above the deck. A moment later, Pullings had joined her, and while they were adjusting their position on the narrow beam, Jack took up his glass to observe them. He had not wanted the men to think him too anxious; however, no one was looking at him. All eyes were trained above.

There was a little shuffle and Pullings appeared to be shouting something, but it was impossible to make out what he might be saying. Then, holding the lines with his left hand, he reached to firmly grasp the lady about the waist. When he had a good hold of her, she let go with both hands, and Jack blanched. Not even the greenest topman would do such a thing, ever! The madwoman drew a small spyglass from a pocket, opened it, and began to scan the horizon aft.

"What is that woman doing?" he growled, a terrible fear that she would fall gripping his heart.

"She looks perfectly relaxed," Stephen remarked beside him. He too was watching the proceedings with a telscope.

"Dangerous imprudence," he muttered. Surely, Pullings should have known better! Time passed so slowly that it seemed to have stopped. Eventually, there was a sudden quick motion that he could not quite follow, and he saw with more than a little relief that Mrs. Stirling was clinging to the lieutenant with both hands. They stood that way for a moment, and then she put away her glass. After, she had grasped a backstay with the obvious intention of climbing down it, but there was no mistaking Pullings this time, for he shouted at her and she obeyed immediately. He climbed down first, and then had her climb directly in front of him. Then, they climbed down together, bit by bit, with him holding on to her waist much of the way. "What is this foolishness?"

"It seems as though the lady has successfully identified the ship," Stephen remarked.

Within five seconds of their arrival safely on the deck, Jack ordered Pullings and Mrs. Stirling to the Great Cabin. The doctor joined them there, and no one spoke at first. Instead of sitting, the lady paced, looking both pale and agitated. The first thing that Jack did was to have Killick fetch a glass of Madeira for her. When she had taken a drink, he went and guided her to a chair.

"Captain Stirling certainly never permitted you to go aloft," he finally said.

"Certainly not," she replied sharply, and she seemed all aflame and painfully roused. "Though at times he had no choice but to employ an experienced topman."

He scratched his head and looked at Stephen who looked only faintly interested in the proceedings. Then, he turned to his lieutenant. "I don't know what you thought you were doing, Mr. Pullings."

Clearly, he was troubled and knew not what to say. "Sir, there was no other way."

"It is no matter now," Mrs. Stirling dismissed impatiently, and Jack turned his attention back to her, for there was something strange about her which he could not put his finger on, something strange and yet so very enticing. "Sir, that ship was one I have not seen these twelve years. My father passed on six months ago, and that ship was his when last I knew him."

Hardly able to comprehend what she meant, he blinked stupidly at her. "Do you mean a _pirate_ ship has been trailing us from port?" he asked incredulously.

"Sir," she began, sounding a little exasperated. "I had no contact with my father for twelve years. I have no idea who commands her now, but I know my father has died. And I know that the ship I saw was the _Walrus_."

He stared at her with a frown. What she said was not difficult to understand, but there was something here that he was missing, and he could not determine what it was.

Stephen moved to sit down beside her and reached to take one of her hands. "My dear, you must drink your wine and calm yourself," he said with great gentleness. "If you are in some danger, you must tell us what you know. Surely, you have seen that you can trust us?"

The words seemed to affect her, and she took a slow sip from her glass, then another. "I am mostly in the dark, I fear."

Reining in the impulse to question her, Jack sat still and let Stephen handle this.

"But you know more than we do," Stephen countered, still speaking very softly and still holding her hand.

"Only a little." She glanced at Jack and then back at Stephen. "My boys and I, we have a little cottage that my husband had bought and there we lived. The ship, _Calypso_, is rented. I can sail her but have no temperament for discipline or handling men, so I could not stand as captain. My brother-in-law, Daniel, helped us when he could, though he never approved of me, even when Richard was alive. Knowing the wicked days of my youth and seeing I was not a God-fearing woman has damned me in the eyes of many men."

This last sentence was spoken with unusual bitterness, and Jack wondered at the cause.

"My father died half a year ago," she continued. "The rum took him. I had not seen him nor heard from him in a dozen years, and then I received a letter. He wrote it upon his deathbed, you see."

The doctor nodded in understanding.

"He asked that I come to collect some papers of his, some important papers. Well, it was not the most pleasant letter to receive, for although we had been estranged, there had always been affection between us. Very shortly after that, men came to our cottage in the night. They killed our dogs and may have slain us but one old hound howled and woke me."

She stopped and when she did not continue, Stephen said, "They were there to murder you?"

"Perhaps they thought there was some valuable information in my father's letter. The bald truth is, we killed them. Four grown men. I have some training in the firing of a rifle, you see, an the boys were well-trained as well."

"My dear, did you ever discover what they wanted?"

"No. I went to see Admiral Bellows immediately. He and Mrs. Bellows had been exceedingly kind in all the years they had known me. Well, it was he who placed Silvester and Christopher, and it was he who placed me here to go and find out what these papers are that I should collect."

Stephen gestured for Jack to refill her glass, which was empty. "These papers must be extremely valuable to have interested the admiral."

"They are, sir. I cannot say what they contain, only that there may be those who wish to stop me."

So much had been left unsaid that Jack marveled at the story. Was it truly all that the lady knew? Fear for one's life was a powerful force, but there was obviously something more. In the situation, however, he did not know how to speak to her, so he let Stephen handle it. He had been doing a fine job thus far.

"Perhaps it would be best to retire for now."

Mrs. Stirling nodded and took another sip of the wine. Then she looked at Jack with sincere apology. "Forgive me, sir, any harsh words I may have spoken. I have been a bit overset."

"Of course," he replied kindly, still feeling on the outside of something complicated that he did not understand. "My dear Mrs. Stirling, if there is anyway that we may ease you, please let us know."

A little smile touched her face. "Thank you, sir." Then she got up and turned to the silent Pullings. "Mr. Pullings, I have no words to thank you."

He bowed and replied kindly, then the doctor took the lady back to her quarters. When they were gone, Jack sighed deeply and shook his head. "Well, Tom, what do you make of all that?"

Pullings looked absolutely discomposed. "Sir, I hardly know what to say!"

"Nor do I, Tom. Well, the doctor seems intent on extracting what he may, and I'll not stand in the way." With that, he dismissed his lieutenant and sat reflecting on all that had occurred.


	7. Undisguised Passions

**Undisguised Passions**

"So what did Tom have to say?" Stephen asked as he settled into a chair.

"Nothing, really. Poor man still seemed a bit shaken." Jack rubbed his hands over his face. "I should never have asked him to do it, it was my responsibility. My God, what if he hadn't caught her?"

Stephen's eyes narrowed. "Caught her?"

"Up there, when she lost her balance. You were watching, Stephen."

The doctor considered it but made no reply. Instead, he said, "I think it would be unwise to question her further today. Truth be told, I don't know how much more she may tell us before we arrive at our destination."

Jack picked up the unfinished glass of Madeira and tossed back the contents in one gulp. "What a story! It's all too fantastic to credit!"

"She certainly knows more than she lets on," said Stephen. "And has no ability whatsoever to hide her passions."

It was an odd word for him to use though by no means incorrect in the circumstances. A little smile passed over Jack's face as he thought of the attractive Mrs. Stirling, her pretty bosom, and her undisguised passions. Then, he forced his mind back to the topic at hand. Unable though he might be to control whatever dreams came to him at night, he could – and would! – control his thoughts during his waking hours.

"What of these murderers in the dark of night? I can imagine a woman doing anything to protect her children, but killing four men? And those little boys helping her?"

"But why invent something so wholly unbelievable?" Stephen countered. "The bit about the dogs rings true."

"What sort of papers could Flint have kept?" Jack poured more Madeira for himself and got a fresh glass for Stephen. "Papers that would interest Admiral Bellows?"

"A treasure map, perhaps?"

Jack snorted with laughter. "I should enjoy _that_ cruise!" he laughed.

"I'd stake my wig that she knows exactly what the papers are. I also think she knows who attempted the assassination.'

Jack sprawled in his chair and frowned at him. "Why then will she not speak of it?"

"Perhaps she doesn't know whom to trust. A woman alone in the world with children to take care of, men trying to kill her, a pirate ship following. Does one pirate deliver up his brothers on his deathbed to the magistrates and execution dock?"

"Brothers! Ha! There is no such honor among pirates."

"Well, have you talked with her yet of what she intends to do in Savannah?"

"Only in passing. I suppose I need to sit her down for a chat sooner rather than later."

Stephen mulled it over as he sipped his Madeira. "I have told her to take her dinner in her cabin and to rest herself this evening. Tomorrow you dine in the gunroom, and I assume she will attend."

"Yes, but why?"

"Afterwards speak to her. After the meal and the wine and the flirtation, I wager she will be less able to keep her secrets."

"I? But it is you who seem best able to inspire her to speak."

"No. I shall be far more likely to gain her confidence during a quiet afternoon talking together. Any matter, it is not for me to determine the landing point or any other such thing that you need to see about. No, Jack, you talk with her tomorrow. I shall bide until the time is right."

The weather had been growing progressively warmer, and when Mrs. Stirling came on deck the next day during the forenoon watch, she had put on a simple cotton frock of lavender. This dress had a modest square neckline that revealed her neck and collarbone, and she also wore a straw hat to protect her from the sun. Already, she was a little tan and some of the crew called good day to her. Mr. Allen told her that she was looking remarkably well, and she beamed at him in gratitude and talked with him a good long time before going to stand by herself, for Dr. Maturin was not present.

When the captain first saw her, she was standing in the same place but was flanked by the lieutenants, Mowett on her left and Pullings on her right. All three were standing with their backs to him and looking out to sea. Mowett was speaking in an exaggerated voice and the other two were laughing in delight. It seemed to Jack that the two were taking advantage of the doctor's absence. After Mr. Mowett was called away, Jack observed that Tom Pullings remained, talking and laughing at an uncharacteristic rate. What he could possibly be saying escaped Jack, for in all the years he had known Pullings, he had never seen him rattle on in this way. On the other hand, the lady was standing close to him, and her face was turned up with a sweet smile. Listening with all her heart, he saw. It was a great talent that Mrs. Stirling had, and in that moment, Jack knew that it did not matter what Tom was saying. Having been in a similar situation many times, with a pretty woman looking at him and listening so intently, it really didn't matter. He grinned at his memories.

When the doctor appeared and moved to take a seat on the other side of the quarterdeck with his book, they both turned and wished him a good morning before turning back to their chat. It made Jack chuckle to himself. Of all the men aboard down to the ship's boys, only Stephen took no notice of Mrs. Stirling's flattering new frock and hat. Typical, Jack thought with a chuckle before going forward to speak with Lamb, the master carpenter.


	8. Charts and Strategies

Here's a tidbit to tide us over on the long voyage to Savannah. 

Miss Flossy:

I think you would have much preferred _Flint's Rose_, which was the story where she meets Richard Stirling. It was bloody and violent, and their affair was torrid, but it was also horribly sad. (and it's also just written in longhand and will probably never be typed onto the computer.)

I think that any attractive woman on a similar ship would have the men jumping through hoops to please her. In addition, there is something that Jack hasn't quite realized yet. The action is a ways off, though. Things will have to unfold bit by bit, and since I haven't been able to determined who among them would make an appropriate lover for her, no real romance can occur.

Lady Legrace:  
The oldest boy was probably born when she was about 19, so she'd be 29 in this story. As I said, I am still trying to work out if any of the men would suit her. Too bad Mr. Allen is old enough to be her father!!

_Is this an example of the story told from Jack's POV and him not realizing exactly what's happening? _

Aren't you the sharp one? ;-)

* * *

**Charts and Strategies**

Dinner was a merry affair now that they were quite accustomed to the presence of their guest. In the gunroom, Pullings sat at the head of the table; Mrs. Stirling was tonight on his right and the captain on his left. Jack kept his eye on her and made sure that her glass was kept filled, which did not escape the notice of the others, sitting as he was across from her. The gunroom was poor and served their best wine only for this guest. Other days, they drank inferior local vintages, which was one of the reasons that Stephen, who as surgeon was their messmate, often dined with Jack.

"Has any one of you sailed into Savannah?" Jack asked the table as they were finishing their pudding.

"I have, captain, many times," the lady replied. "Though it is more than a dozen years since I last did so."

"A tricky entry, it seems. Perhaps you will do me the honor of taking a look at the chart? I do have a few questions that you may be able to help me with."

"Of course, captain, I am at your service."

"Good, good." He got up. "I hope you'll forgive me, Mr. Pullings, for stealing away your guest so early."

"Now?" asked Mrs. Stirling in shock. To leave at this point would be a terrible insult to the officers, especially Pullings.

"If you please." Jack smiled his best.

For a moment, she looked uncertain as to what to do, and she was unnaturally flushed from the quantity of wine she had consumed. Getting up, she turned unhappily to the first lieutenant. "Forgive me, sir. I thank you for a most excellent dinner."

The gentlemen had all risen as well. "No apology is necessary," said Pullings kindly.

"No, we don't stand on ceremony here!" added Mowett with a laugh.

With a truly grateful glance at Mr. Mowett for that lighthearted remark, she took her leave from the officers and Jack escorted her to the Great Cabin. Since they had not dined there, the table was strewn with charts and papers, and he shed his coat before seating her beside him. "Here is the port of Savannah." He pointed out the position on the nearest chart. "Do you know Salter's Island?"

"Yes, sir. There's the Mud Fort there." She pointed it out on the map, her eyes studying the complicated maze of islands and waterways as her mind went back in time.

"My dear, isn't it time you started calling me Jack? At least in private?"

The unexpected segue brought her eyes up to his, and she looked at him in flushed confusion, being quite affected by the wine with which she had been plied. "Jack?"

"That's better." He smiled again at her, then turned back to the chart. "Now, about this port. All the channels of the Savannah River converge there and all vessels must pass it in and out of the harbor."

"Yes, sir, though I don't know – "

"Jack."

"Sorry – Jack. I don't know if the fort is still in active use." She looked up at him, then, and her brows were drawn together in a frown. "I do not think it is possible to slip in under cloak of night or fog."

"We need not slip in at all, my dear lady," he said with another winning smile. "We shall go by stealth, yes, but in the open. We are to rendezvous offshore with a merchant schooner and leave the _Surprise_ with a skeleton crew while we sail into the harbor in perfectly legality."

When she looked at him in astonishment, he saw that Stephen was right, that her face was an open book where he could read her emotions, now, especially: warm, full, and wine-logged. "Better to blend in than to stand out?"

"Precisely. Those who go aboard the schooner shall give up their uniforms for civilian togs. I shall take you ashore under an assumed name, of course. I think Mr. Howard is the best choice to accompany us, and we shall have a leisurely stroll into the city."

Instantly, her face registered and he saw it at last – revulsion. "Not Captain Howard. Please, sir."

The strength of her reaction he certainly hadn't expected. "Has he insulted you? Or behaved with impropriety?" he asked very seriously.

"Oh, no sir! – Jack. He is a fine man and most gentlemanlike. Besides, if he had, you would have known about it right away, for I do not suffer men's insults in silence. The truth is, I.. I am not comfortable with him. That is all." She placed her hand on his wrist. "Please, Jack. Anyone else."

"Of course, my dear." Again, he smiled and put his hand gently over hers. "You can choose your escort. I shall take you m'self. You'd like Stephen along as well, I wager. Whatever you wish."

Relieved, she smiled back. "Thank you, sir."

"Jack."

"Yes, Jack." She slowly withdrew her hand. "There is one thing, though. Once we are in port, I am afraid that you may feel obliged to haul some of the men of Savannah off to appear before the assizes. If my recollection serves me, you will find all manner of smugglers and pirates there."

"Obliged or not, you have no cause for worry on that count," he assured her. "As I said, we are going ashore as civilians and under assumed names. Can you imagine a merchant seaman taking men into custody?" He chuckled. "No, my dear lady, you must not concern yourself, for we are to protect you. That is paramount."

A deep sigh of relief and she relaxed visibly. "Thank you, Jack." She beamed at him. The wine and the warmth of the cabin were lulling her, and she leaned back in the chair.

The substance of his erotic dreams hovered at the edge of his consciousness. He had never in his life set out with a plan to seduce a woman, but his mind was excited by the possibilities and the lady seemed fond of him. He chose his next words before he said them. "Admiral Bellows sent you with me because he has known me these many years. You can count on every man here. We shall get you there safely, upon my word." He reached to take her hand gently as he spoke.

"I am sure the admiral chose the right man for the job," she said with an affectionate look that further encouraged him. He decided to press his luck.

"It is only one day that we are to be in Savannah, is it not?" His thumb stroked the back of her hand.

"Yes, only one day."

"Where do you intend to go?"

"Oh, to a little public house run by my father's former steward. He retired to become an honest man and married a good woman. I shall also go up to the churchyard where my mother is. To pay my respects."

"And the papers you need? They are there? This man has them?"

She looked down. "We shall know more once we are there."

He paused and wondered if he might encourage her to say more; however, he was loathe to risk pushing too hard and ruining the warm and intimate mood they now enjoyed. Instead, man of action that he was, he decided in the moment to chance a storming of her defenses. "You know, the men are gossiping about us. About you and me." He reached to brush his fingertips against her collarbone.

"Gossiping?" At his touch, her breathing had become more rapid and she stared at him with her eyes widened. He could see the rapid beating of the pulse in her throat.

His fingers slid round to the back of her neck and he leaned closer. "It would be more useful to make the rumors true rather than just denying them. Don't you think?" Drawing her head forward with the light pressure of his fingers on her neck, he leaned to kiss her. The lady's hands fluttered to his shoulders and she was kissing him back. Jack's hand cupped the nape of her neck as his mouth caressed hers.

Then, she pushed him back. His fingers relaxed enough to allow her to lift her head, but he kept hold of her. "Sir…" she breathed. "Captain…"

"Jack," he reminded in a husky voice, smiling affectionately.

"Jack." Her hands ran over his chest, but there were tears in her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked gently. "My dear lovely Rose, my kisses have never before made any woman weep."

"By the stars! I am flummoxed!" She looked at him miserably. "Gossiping! I do not toy with men's affections, but I must have mislead you without realizing. Gossiping!" She closed her eyes and raised a hand to her heated face.

Jack had stopped smiling and felt the cruel stroke of disappointment at having misread the signals. Looking at how very wretched she was, he felt a strong need to reassure her. "Men will talk, as you know. It is the natural way of things."

Again, she looked at him with undisguised admiration despite her grave expression. "You are a well-made man – no woman could ignore that!"

His smile returned. "That's a good start."

The comment drew a tiny smile from her, but she gazed at him with a hungry, frustrated look. "You are very much like my husband was, both in size and cheerfulness. I am afraid that my heart is quite frail and would bear too much pain if I came to care for you."

It was easy to understand. Though she might have the courage of a lioness protecting her cubs, she had the tender heart of a woman. Despite the still keen disappointment, he felt the warmth of flattered vanity. The mistake had not been totally his, for she had admired him and wanted him in the way that he perceived. That it was not to be was now clear to him, but he had always greatly respected women who refused him kindly, and he did so now. He looked upon his pretty, half-drunken companion with great benevolence and some compassion.

"This simply will not do," he began with a smile. "I would wager that some air and light exercise would do you a world of good. The others have not yet retired, I expect, and I shall beg their pardon for removing you so rudely from their feast."

In the coolness of the night air, the hands were still dancing and singing on the forecastle with the officers watching, and Jack escorted her up to them and apologized quite sincerely for ruining the meal. After that, his eyes met Stephen's and he shrugged a little to tell the doctor that he had learned little.


	9. Savannah

This was a difficult chapter to write because so much delicate action had to happen in a short time that it couldn't be told from one person's point of view. In addition, Rose is so somber and events are turning serious that I had to throw in some comedy relief (forgive me!)

Miss Flossy,  
My main problem in writing Mowett is that I can't write poetry, at all, and it's such a big part of his characterization.  
I have to say that your last comment had me laughing and sparked an idea for the following scene. I'm going to post it in all italics just to remind anyone who might see it that it's not really part of the story.  
It takes place the morning after she rejected Jack.

"_Doctor, may I have a private word with you?"_

_Stephen looked up from his book to find Mrs. Stirling looking unusually pale and serious in the doorway of his cramped little office. _

"_Of course, though if it is a matter of a private medical consultation, I am certain that the captain will permit use of the Great Cabin."_

"_It is not a medical matter at all. The captain mentioned that the crew were gossiping about him and me. It didn't concern him much, and I know that onboard a ship that there is always talk among the fo'c'sle hands, but I am afraid that I have encouraged it somehow."_

_Stephen scratched his head. "Yes, I have heard a little of the talk. There appears to be a fair amount of wagering going on about who will be the man to ultimately gain your affections. I believe that the odds favored him last night after dinner."_

_She stared at him as if he were mad. "Gain my affections?" she repeated. "Doctor, do you mean to tell me that the men of this crew are betting that one of the officers will become my lover?"_

"_That is exactly what I am saying."_

_Dumbstruck, she sank into a chair, slowly shaking her head. Several times she blinked and shook her head over and over. Then, she laughed. "Good heavens! I can scarcely credit such an idea, but I trust that you are not gaming with me." _

"_I am not. It may amuse you to know that only three men placed their money on Mr. Howard, and all of them marines. In addition, only one man chose Mr. Allen as the likely lover."_

"_Mr. Allen!" she cried, laughing even harder. "My dear sir! You cannot be serious!"_

"_Indeed, I am completely serious, though I must say I am happy to see you are amused rather than offended, for this rises from the men's affection for their officers rather than any aspersion on your virtue."_

(With apologies for silliness!)

* * *

**Savannah**

The passage proved to be otherwise uneventful, and late midwatch one dark Thursday night, thirty miles off the coast of Georgia, the _Surprise_ had her rendezvous with the merchant schooner _Grover._ Pullings, was to be left in charge of the _Surprise_ along with Allen, Howard, and all of the marines whom Mrs. Stirling privately detested. The crew was being rowed over to the schooner, so the lady wore her men's trousers and sweater in order to make the transition more easily. Her gown was packed in a carpetbag and sent over with the crew so she could change aboard in preparation for landing in Savannah.

Glum, pensive, and on edge, she stood waiting on deck for her turn to climb down into the boat. Stephen was slowly making his way down and having a difficult time of it for the open sea was not completely calm and the ship was rising and falling to a pronounced degree.

"Do not fret for that ship following," Mr. Pullings said to her by way of reassurance as they stood waiting. "You will be quite safe with the captain and the doctor, and we shall not let her by. If the _Walrus_ comes near the shore, we'll have her, upon my honor. So, you must not fret."

A little smile just visible in the lamplight pierced her gloomy expression. "Thank you. It does ease my mind to hear you say that."

Finally, the doctor was settled although he had taken a bit of a ducking, and she went over the side next, with both Pullings and Mr. Allen giving her a hand. After the doctor's disgraceful performance, she seemed as nimble as a quick little monkey.

The merchant schooner was a small, dirty, poorly-run mess that did little to improve her mood, thus she kept to herself on the journey. The morning dawned fair inland, and dressed in her lavender frock and a pretty white shawl, she joined Jack and Stephen for their sojourn with tension and anxiety darkening her face. Before going ashore, she asked one of the purser's men to go to the local vintners to bring back several cases of wine as a present to the captain and the gunroom for their hospitality. Then, she was ready.

"I should think we will be back before dinner," she told Mr. Mowett, who was to stay and keep the schooner in readiness for their departure, with a dour look. "I would be in your debt if you could promise me to have us back onboard the _Surprise_ in time for a nightcap before retiring, for I cannot bear the though of remaining on this schooner for an instant longer than necessary."

The lady's remark amused him, for none of the men would remark on the sad state of any other vessel, even one as wholly decrepit as the _Grover_. "No doubt, ma'am, you may count on me!" he assured her.

The morning clamor on the docks was beginning to die down a bit when they went ashore. Casually, they strolled and Mrs. Stirling told them, "We should engage a dog-cart at quay's end."

"That is easily done," said Jack. Tall and imposing even without his uniform, he engaged a dog-cart and soon they were settled in the rough cart and the pony was pulling them through the streets at a smart clip.

Their first stop was the churchyard, and Stephen, who was Roman Catholic, only followed them in because he had been charged in protecting the lady's life. The yard was old and overgrown a bit, but a massive magnolia tree was in bloom, perfuming the quiet air with some manner of divinity. Both men trailed behind and left the lady some privacy as she came to the side of an old grave. They saw the stone

_Lily Caruthers Flint_

and next to it, a much newer and fresher grave

_Captain John Flint_

For her part, Mrs. Stirling knelt by her parents' graves for no more than ten minutes. When she came over to them, though, her eyes were damp and a serene grace possessed her.

"Do you see that birdhouse?" she asked, pointing to a small wooden object above in the branches of the venerable magnolia. "My father made that and hung it there when my mother was buried. She was uncommonly fond of the little birds."

Both Jack and Stephen looked up. It may have once been blue, but rain and weather had rendered it nondescript over the years so that it was now some sort of melancholy gray, like much of the lady's mood.

"Jack," she said quietly to the captain. "I beg of you to take that birdhouse down for me. I shall take it with me."

"My pleasure." He took off his coat, hat, and sword before scaling the tree. It was easy, he found, and within a few minutes, he had retrieved the birdhouse and was back on the ground. Upon returning it to her, he found himself the recipient of her trembling smile of gratitude.

No other word was spoken until they were back in the dog-cart. Stephen insisted on carrying the birdhouse, and she was reluctant until he promised to carry it with great care. Then, in time for luncheon, the dog-cart took them back down into the city to the Cold Mariner Inn.

In truth, the place was less worrisome than either Jack or Stephen had expected, and upon entering, the three of them were lead into a private dining room for their luncheon. Mr. Terayen, the proprietor, came in presently to attend to his well-to-do guests. He was a grizzled, wiry little man, very darkly tanned, looking like a tough bit of gristle. Only a few minutes had passed before he recognized the woman and stood gawping at her.

"You know me, then?" she asked of him.

"Laws, yes, Miss Rose. I should know the like of you anywhere. But why have ye come, lass?" Fear and anxiety showed clearly on his face.

She glanced at Jack and Stephen with a frown. "My father wrote a letter to me just before he died. Shortly after that, some men tried to murder me in my sleep."

"Aye and I don't doubt that." He shook his head slowly. "Miss, ye're in terrible danger.

"What do you mean?" asked Jack.

"Forgive me, sir, for I ain't what I used to be, but I still hear a bit o' gossip here and there. My old mates sometimes come in and jaw a bit over a mug."

"For God's sake, speak, man!"

"There's five thousand pounds offered to see you out of the way."

"Five thousand pounds!" Stephen cried. "To have her killed, you mean."

"Yes, sir." The old man's anxiety was quite palpable.

"Say what you know, and do so quickly," Jack growled, looking at the little fellow with a menacing glower.

"I only heard the gossip, sir. I'm an honest man now, but I hear a bit of this and that. I was right worried about Miss Rose, y'see. I served with Flint thirty years, sir, and I were afeared of him in life and I'm just as afeared of him in death. He wouldn't want his girl harmed."

"Who sails the _Walrus_ now?" the captain demanded.

"I don't rightly know, sir. The hands, mayhaps, as they would've elected a new captain when Flint left the ship."

"I ask because she has trailed us all the way here from England."

The old man muttered a vile oath. "You should not have come, miss."

Having lost her appetite and most of the color in her face, the lady sat as one turned to stone listening as Jack and Stephen questioned the man. There was not much more that he knew, and the four of them finally sat in silence. "We must return to the ship right away," was what she eventually said. "But I must visit with Mrs. Terayen first, if I may."

Terayen sent her upstairs to see his wife whose both feet had been amputated, leaving her unable to get around very well. When she had gone, Terayen asked the two men, "Are you acquainted with that lass's man?"

"I believe he is referring to her husband."

"I am perfectly aware to whom he is referring, Stephen."

"I wondered what type of man that lass would take. Fire and sweetness she had from her mother, and Lord knows what from her father."

"What was Mrs. Flint like?" asked Stephen.

"A right strong sea-bird, or so she turned out to be. Wouldn't have thought it to look at her. A lady, she was, fine as silk and gentle of voice. Fiery like all hell, though, and nerves like a man. Fourteen years, old Flint took no other woman. Fourteen years, matey. Fourteen years asea, and he took not one other woman in that time. He kept his wife aboard, and the pair of them went at it every night."

"Do you mean to say that Captain and Mrs. Flint had marital relations _every_ night?" asked Stephen with professional interest.

"Three times a week, three times a day, depending on the mood. Of course, there was a lull when Mrs. Lily was ill, and of course, there was many weeks lull when Miss Rose came, but the truth is that they wore each other out."

"Extraordinary," Stephen remarked.

"I wondered if ye served with Miss Rose's man, for I was wondering if the young miss had it in her. I only knew her as a lass, you see."

Stephen couldn't help laughing both at Jack's black frown and the absurdity of the situation. The vile old pirate may have claimed to be an honest man, but no amount of time ashore could remove his uncouth wickedness.

Clutching a bundle wrapped in waxed brown paper and tied with twine, Rose Flint Stirling returned to the parlor looking rather tired and sad. "Jack, Stephen," she said quietly. "I am ready to go." She allowed Jack to carry her bundle and with Stephen still holding the silly little birdhouse, they went straight back to the docks without any mishap. True to his word, Mowett had everything ready, and they got underway as soon as the tide was with them.

The journey upon the _Grover_ was mercifully short. As soon as they were aboard the _Surprise_, with birdhouse and brown paper package in hand, Jack and Stephen went down to the Great Cabin with her.


	10. Hidden Secrets

**Hidden Secrets**

When Tom Pullings reported to the captain's cabin and informed him that all was well and no other sails had been sighted, he found Jack was cutting the string on the lady's parcel with an antique dirk that he used as a letter opener. "Ah, very good, Tom. Have a seat."

Stephen had his shoes off and was sipping a glass of wine. Next to him, the lady sat looking at the faded, old birdhouse with a strange, solemn expression on her face. "Are you ill, ma'am?" he asked. "If you don't mind me saying, you look done for."

The first real smile of the day lit her face and she laughed. "How very kind of you!" she teased.

"What is this?" Jack demanded. The parcel was open and he was pawing roughly at some very fine, expensive silk chiffon that had been wrapped in the paper.

"Jack! My chiffon!" she cried in annoyance, reaching to take it from him. "It was a gift from Mrs. Terayen, if you must know, and I shall make myself a new evening gown. I hope you have not soiled it."

"I don't know what kind of game you are playing, ma'am," said Jack angrily, "but my patience is at an end."

"Rose, where are your father's papers?" asked Stephen more delicately.

"Right here." She reached to tap on the birdhouse.

For a second, they all stared at it, then Jack reached impatiently across the table. With the dirk, he pried off the top of the birdhouse. Old bits of speckled eggshells and nesting material scattered over the tabletop and floor. Reaching inside, he yanked out a false back, and with more care, he removed a flat packet wrapped tightly in sealskin.

"I'll be damned," he said to himself.

The other two men got up from there chairs to see. Jack laid the packet flat on the table and slit the leather thong tying it closed. Very carefully, he opened the sealskin to find a heavy parchment folded within. Glancing at the others, Jack grinned, then began to unfold what turned out to be a maritime chart with the latitude and longitude marked very plainly and an almond shaped island with a sizable inlet like a crab's claw. There was no name given to the island, but the initials JF were in the corner.

"Do you mark that location, Tom?" Jack asked.

"It can't be," replied the other man.

"I don't understand," said Stephen. "What is it?"

"There is no island there."

They all sat there in silence for a long minute. "Sir, perhaps you may tell me some of what occurred today?" Pullings finally asked.

Jack quickly told his lieutenant about the churchyard and the disturbing interview with Terayen over luncheon. When he heard about the price on the lady's head, his tanned face paled a bit, and he looked worriedly at her as if he finally comprehended the source of her melancholy.

"I am quite sure you have questions you would like me to answer." Rose smiled a little, but there was no happiness in her expression, just sorrow and softness, as if she were blurred around the edges. "May we speak of this tomorrow, please?"

Jack hesitated a moment. His own weariness had faded a little in the excitement of the discovery, and he burned with questions. However, she was obviously in no state to go on. "Yes, of course," he finally said. "You need a good night's sleep. Tom, will you see the lady to her cabin?"

"Yes, sir."

They all got up. "My dear Rose," said Stephen, embracing her and kissing her on both cheeks in the Continental fashion. "You are a remarkably brave lady."

"Thank you," she murmured, tears trembling in her eyes.

"Good night, ma'am," said Jack, not knowing what else to say.

"Good night, and thank you both," she said, then went with Pullings.

Now that they were alone, both men knew that they could speak freely, which they had refrained from doing in her presence.

"By God, I wish we could have had the whole story from her tonight," Jack muttered, rubbing his head. "I thought that this would answer some questions, not create more." He took up Flint's chart again.

"Jack, whatever it is she is involved with, it is far more than mere piracy," said Stephen slowly. "Five thousand pounds!"

"And we'll have it out of her tomorrow," Jack said as he studied the parchment.

"That woman is dangerous. Not in the way we may have originally thought, but still more than she appears."

He had caught Jack's attention. "What do you mean? Under a death sentence by pirates?"

"No. I mean here, aboard ship." He picked up a shard of an eggshell that had fallen out of the birdhouse and examined it. ""I remember a reaction that one of my colleagues once showed me. Into a clear liquid, he dropped a catalyst that turned it dark and tempestuous."

"Stephen, what the devil are you talking about?"

"Think about the power a woman can have over a man and then increase it exponentially. That is the danger we are facing. It is clear that Mrs. Stirling is a lady and is certainly not a trained agent; however, if events warrant, she may act out of desperation."

"You think she has influence over some of the officers?" Jack felt a deep sense of foreboding at Stephen's words.

"You cannot have failed to notice the way she looks at us, at all of us. The charming inability to disguise her feelings is incredibly flattering and not a man among us minds at all, but the distraction! When a man like Tom Pullings almost drops her off the top of the mainmast, then I begin to worry about what mischief she could generate if she had the correct motivation."

At first, Jack glared at him; then he stopped to think. What had really happened up there that day? And what was the ineffable quality that the lady possessed which still remained an inchoate thought only partially recognized by his mind but fully familiar to a more primal part of him?

"Men think of themselves as one type of creature and of women as something else entirely, closer to angels than to the warm-blooded animals we really are. Thus, though men visit brothels or have women, they do not think a lady who is widowed might have a lover until there is compelling evidence to the opposite. There is the assumption that she has been chaste these four years."

"What difference does it make to us now?" Jack snapped, but in truth, the thought was an interesting one. It was true that he had assumed she had been just a widow and a mother since the death of her husband. The possibility that she had had a lover during that time woke something fierce and protective in him.

"There is something vastly different between a woman who is happily married and one who is without any lover. It is the same with every other kind of animal in nature: a scent, a look, an indefinable aspect. It is nothing conscious, to be sure, and perfectly correct though her behavior has been, with nothing to distract him from her, a man cannot help the attraction. Now, here she is aboard the ship: a pretty widow with no one to take care of her. Men are terribly protective and territorial in their nature, as women are guardians of their children, you see. More of the natural instinct, I'm afraid."

"Stephen, we are men, after all, not goddamned animals. We have minds and morals and consciences. And I would warn you that it is a lady you are talking about and not some beetle under your microscope."

"I disparage the name of no lady. All I state is the scientific facts of the situation. It is a struggle for all of us to control the appetites that arise out of instinct."

"That sounds very much like a disparagement to me. You are saying that she is hungry for a man!"

"No," said Stephen quietly, "no, it is quite the opposite. She has the ability to influence us – all of us – and she hasn't had any reason to do it yet. But with men out to murder her for profit, who knows what she might do in a desperate situation."


	11. Piracy and Treason

Kayla,  
Thanks for the comments. I just couldn't get it right to please myself, and now I see why very clearly. The truth is, I wrote that after reading a scene in _Treason's Harbour_ where Jack saw a pair of tortoises mating and thought that it was too bad that Stephen wasn't there to see it!

Here's the passage I was looking for (also from _Treason's Harbour_):  
"Stephen Maturin was in fact sitting on a bench in the abbey church of St. Simon's, listening to the monks singing vespers. He too was dinnerless, but in this case it was voluntary and prudential, a penance for lusting after Laura Fielding and (he hoped) a means of reducing his concupiscence"

I can't go by the book canon – I just adore the movie Stephen too much, and the scenes of his interaction with Blakeney just turn me to mush. Again, many thanks for the historical information!

Lady Legrace,  
You are wicked!  
Thanks for the advice. The first little scene in this part is for you, for I'd never have written it otherwise. (Yes, you are right, I'd be very happy in the life you described. :-) I intend to have it when I finish this degree!)

**

* * *

**

**Piracy and Treason**

Mr. Pullings escorted the lady through the narrow passages of the ship to her quarters. He himself had given up the best cabin off the gunroom, where the officers were quartered, before she had come aboard, so he knew very well how cozy she was in that little den.

"Ma'am, I'd like to say I'm terribly sorry," he said. "I should be afraid in your place, to be sure. But one thing you may rest easy on, and that is that you are safe here. Nowhere could you be safer than here aboard ship."

She sighed. "I wish I could share your certainty."

"Please, ma'am." He took hold of her arm to stop her and she turned to look up at him. In the shadowy lamplight, grief and worry were etched onto her face. "Every man aboard is honest, and we have known most of them for years."

"I don't doubt that, but five thousand pounds would tempt even an honest man," she said with bitterness creeping into her voice.

"No," he disagreed. "To steal is one thing, but to murder a helpless woman? Not as I live and breathe would any of the men aboard sell your life – not for fifty thousand."

These words and the compelling way they were spoken – both with confidence and compassion – made her pause. Her face was uncertain, and she frowned at him, debating.

"You are safe," he told her firmly, "surrounded by men whose duty it is to protect you, asail on blue water on a trim eight-and-twenty. You may sleep securely knowing that there is no safer place for you."

A thoughtful little nod and she turned to slowly start walking again. 'You are right, of course. I am afraid my mind slips sideways sometimes and prevents me from thinking properly."

"It's little wonder with all you've endured."

They were at the door to her cabin, and she turned to him. "Your words have given me some peace, sir." She extended her hand to him. "Thank you."

Taking her hand, he bowed a little. "My pleasure, ma'am." They both smiled a little as they stood there in the lamplight. The ship was creaking gently as it rose and fell with the swells; otherwise, there was silence, and they were quite alone in the gunroom. She withdrew her hand slowly.

"Goodnight." She went into the little cabin and closed the door behind him. Pullings drew in a deep breath and sighed before turning away.

**

* * *

**

Grave and pale, Rose sat in front of an open window the next day during the forenoon watch. The day was warm and the sea was blue and brilliant behind her. She looked at the three men: the doctor, the captain, and the first lieutenant. "You may think that I have not spoken of what I know before now because I didn't fully trust you, and you would be right. It is not all, however. You have each proved to be kind, and I now know that I can trust you, but what I shall now say to you may imperil your lives. I do not do so lightly. I have no doubt, though, that you are courageous men and accustomed to risking your lives."

Jack smiled reassuringly. "There is no need to concern yourself. We are quite used to danger."

She nodded briefly. "In the past, those who discovered the island could not land there because of its geography. The steep cliffs protect the outer perimeter, and the inlet forms a lovely lagoon, but the reef is deadly. A ship may only pass over it at high tide and only with a pilot who knows how to conn a ship safely through. If not, it would rip the hull in several places.

"My father learned in his youth to pass the reef, and he later used the island because it was not in the routes of the trade winds and no merchant or naval vessels come near there by routine cruise. It is not on your charts because there are powerful men who don't want it to be. Of course there is corruption everywhere. Many British government officials did business with my father and other pirates and smugglers in exchange for looking the other way and allowing them to take certain prizes. Now, he kept an account book on that island with all the names, dates, amounts, and other information recorded there. There was little on earth that might have persuaded him to give up any of his cohorts to the magistrates, for he had a terrible scorn for legal or military authority. There was one thing he hated worse, and that was disloyalty."

"Honor among thieves?" Jack asked.

"If you could overlook their crimes, they were a democratic bunch," she admitted. "As for me, I could never abide violence. Well, as time passed, he discovered that one of his corrupt men was engaged in treasonous activity. He kept the documents safely, hoping someday to have the opportunity to damn the traitor. You can imagine that it was not to be – how does a man of his reputation pass such information on to honest authorities in good faith? He could not, of course. He had no great love of England, but he hated traitors."

"Treasonous activities?" Stephen repeated, enunciating each word carefully. "A government official, you say? And your father's papers contain damning documents?"

"It is so, doctor. When my father went to his death six months ago a free man, he charged me with the task of fetching the documents and having the traitor condemned. Although I had had no contact with him for many years, he knew much of what had occurred in my life. Admiral Bellows is honest and true, and my father knew he was my benefactor and would help me. The great trouble is that my father's account book will implicate the scores of men who have done business with him. Thus, we do not know who may be responsible for the attempt on my life. It is not inconceivable that it is more than one."

The four of them sat there in a long silence as the men digested what they had heard. Eventually, Jack spoke. "Why did Admiral Bellows send you? Surely, you could have merely described the locations where the chart and account book were to be found?"

"Two points. He sent me because he said it would be safer for the boys and me to be at sea than hidden somewhere. In addition, you will need me to cross the reef, for I am the only person left alive who knows how."

"Do you know the name of the traitor?" asked Stephen.

There was no response. She looked from one to the other, biting her lip, with her agony obvious on her face.

"Rose, we shall know shortly. Do not seek to protect us."

She nodded reluctantly. "It is Colonel Jeremy Pitt."

"Pitt!" said Pullings. "Your brother-in-law?"

"He is the husband of my sister-in-law but no relation of mine," she snapped.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," he said, looking chagrined. "I was merely startled by the news and meant no disrespect."

"Gods!" She lifted a hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry. I knew that. I am just so dreadfully irritable today. I should not have been cross with you."

"It's quite understandable, ma'am. Think nothing of it."

"I was going to put in at Nassau, but that's out of the question now," Jack informed them. "We'll go on to Kingston, I suppose. It's a safe distance." He frowned at the lady, feeling both frustration and compassion. "How well do you know Colonel Pitt? Is it possible that he is the one behind the murder attempt?"

"I know him only a little, but it would not surprise me in the least, for the man is a villain and a blackguard." She spoke fiercely, and some color rose in her cheeks.

"Then, we'll put in at Kingston barring and further intelligence before then. Does that suit you, Rose?"

"It will be a pleasure," she said with a ghostly smile.


	12. Comfort

**Note:**

I certainly didn't write Mowett's poem. It's copied directly from _The Ionian Mission_.

Now, to answer some questions. Let's see…

Kayla, her elder son was born when she was about 19 or 20 years old, so she is currently about 29 or 30. Yes, she's very worldly, mostly to do with the horrors she has gone through.

Legrace, I'm studying for a degree in Conservation and Applied Ecology. And I agree with you a bit – I wouldn't mind a tumble in the hay with Jack, although he can really be a jackass sometimes. And thanks for the compliments!

Mr. Allen, as sailing master, is not a military man, he's an expert navigator. His function on the ship is to take care of the business of sailing the ship – setting the course, figuring out the mathematics (which Jack is notoriously bad at), etc. He's kind of the antithesis to Captain Howard, who is a military officer but not really a sailor. Anyway, what he does for Jack is what Rose's father taught her to do on the _Walrus_. So, in a way, they are peers, although Mr. Allen has a lifetime of experience rather than direct training.

Anyway, I am going to borrow my sister's DVD of M&C this weekend. I'm overloaded on book events and need to take a look at all these men and remember the film's characteristics.

* * *

**Comfort**

As was the way in the enclosed society of shipboard life, the word was passed round that Captain Stirling had been murdered by pirates; that Mrs. Stirling's parents had been tortured and whipped to death; that her children had been carried off and forced to serve on pirate ships; that she was fleeing for her life; that the captain was going to rescue her boys. In the days after leaving Savannah, her behavior only seemed to confirm the talk, for she was generally pale, morose, and silent. Occasionally, she spoke sharply to someone who did not always deserve it.

Jack saw a little of what Stephen had been trying to tell him in the gloom that overtook the ship. Mr. Allen was particularly worried about her. Standing with the other officers one beautiful day and observance her forlorn figure sitting off by herself, he was moved to speak. "It is a tragedy to see the poor girl brought so low. It seems that some employment should lighten her spirits rather than allowing her to remain in her isolated gloom."

Not all the officers knew of Mrs. Stirling's past, and in the subsequent interview he had with her in private, Jack advised her that they might need to know her secrets in the near future.

"It is just as well," she had sighed. "I don't doubt any of their abilities to do their duty."

"Even Captain Howard?"

"Yes, even he." At his surprised look, she explained, "Whatever my personal feelings, I have no reason to doubt him."

The gunroom decided to invite her and the captain to dine twice a week now. Her gift of several cases of very fine red wine had been received with great joy and excessive thanks, and they pleased her by drinking several toasts to her health. The merry company brightened her, and she was herself again: pleasant, friendly, and interested in what they had to say.

"I have been so ill and blue-devilled that I have forgot my chiffon!" she declared. "I shall begin work on a new evening gown tomorrow, for it will serve to have a summer-weight garment in these climes. In any case, this old blue silk must be a tired sight to your eyes."

The men made witty and flattering remarks and assured her of the continued loveliness of the gown. Then, they urged Mr. Mowett to recite a poem and after demurring a bit, he grew serious.

"_By woe, the soul to daring action swells;  
__By woe, in plaintless patience it excels:  
__From patience, prudent clear experience springs  
__And traces knowledge through the course of things:  
__Thence hope is formed, thence fortitude, success,  
__Renown – whate'er men covet and caress." _

The response was loud with much clapping and scraping of the table with glasses. Those nearest to him clapped him upon the shoulders, and he flushed with pleasure at their praise.

After that, Pullings got up and went to fetch something from outside the door. As ranking officer in the gunroom, it was he who spoke for them. "Mrs. Stirling, You have been unnecessarily kind in providing such fine wine for us poor sailors," he started as he carried a little canvas sack to the table. "In return, to show our appreciation and regard, we have had Mr. Lamb repair this for you."

From within the sack, he brought out her father's birdhouse. The top had been replaced, and the whole surface had been sanded and repainted a lovely sky blue. Her eyes grew wide and she hesitantly reached to take it from him. Stunned, she looked at Pullings, then at the others without any words.

"That's a fine job," Jack chuckled, admiring it.

Without warning, tears dribbled from the lady's eyes, and the gaiety in the room abated instantly. Three handkerchiefs were offered to her, and she accepted one from Stephen, who sat beside her. "Gentlemen, this is kind of you," she said in a wavering, emotional voice.

"It was the doctor and Mr. Pullings who came up with the idea," explained Mowett. "As it means something to you."

"It means a great deal to me," she replied, drying her eyes and beaming at them. "Thank you all for such kindness."

When they went up on deck, she requested to be taken to Mr. Lamb directly so that she could thank him. "They've had their grog already," Mr. Allen said to warn her that the crew might be a little rough company for a lady.

"And we've had our wine," she teased with such a devilish glint in her eyes that the old sailing master had to chuckle.

The quiet grew and the men wished her good evening with respect. With a radiant smile, she approached the master carpenter and thanked him prettily for repairing her father's bird house. For his part, Mr. Lamb removed his hat and stammered a reply that made his mates grin.

Being such a fine night and sweet sailing, Jack and Stephen had their instruments brought up on the quarterdeck to serenade the lady. The birdhouse had already been set safely in her cabin, and she smiled at everyone, even Captain Howard, who was doing his charming best to be witty and gallant. The lovely moving adagio they played swelled the night with its heavenly sound, and the lady closed her eyes to take in the wonder. Above, the sky was heavy with stars, there being no moon, and all was sweetness and warmth in that happy place.


	13. Marriage and Family

**Marriage and Family**

The fine weather held, and Mrs. Stirling was able to set out her fabric, measure and cut it, and begin to stitch it. "How I wish I had some fine buttons," she sighed to Stephen one afternoon as they sat companionably together in the sun. "I shall have to take some off one of my other gowns."

"Will you not be able to find some in Kingston?" he suggested.

"Of course, but it is a long way, and I shall need something before then if I wish to wear my gown."

"Are you familiar with the port?"

"Yes, quite well-acquainted. Richard's business took us there often. It was where we were married."

"In a church, then?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, legally and everything!"

"It was not what I meant. I only thought that one such as yourself would have been married on shipboard, but with the bridegroom being the captain, I suppose it cannot be done." He sighed, smiling a little at his gaffe. "May I be so bold as the ask why you never remarried? Certainly you were widowed excessively young."

She laughed at the question. "What man would have me?"

"A great many, I suspect."

She glanced at him, startled, for he was never one for flirtation and flattery, and then a hot flush rose in her face. Only for a second was she at a loss for words, though. "Yes, a still-young widow with a little bit of property… well, there were offers, but I have my standards. I wouldn't take a fool or a landsman."

"Are they not one and the same?" he remarked with absolute seriousness.

"Stephen! Shame! You put words in my mouth that I didn't say! No, for there are seamen who are fools – you don't need me to tell you that!"

At this remark, they heard the amused chuckle of Mr. Mowett who was making an entry in the ship's log nearby. "Amen to that, ma'am!" he called.

"And I certainly wouldn't be left ashore!" she continued in a humorous voice, more for Mowett's ears than for Stephen's. "No, I'd miss nary a cruise nor port, for I'm a useful hand to have aboard. Like any true mariner, my life and my love is the sea."

"The truth is," she told Stephen once the second lieutenant was well away, "that, knowing me and my past – pirate, pagan, and refugee from the gallows – a good man would not want me, and I wouldn't go to wed a man with that secret between us." She shook her head. "It caused enough trouble for Richard. _That_ is for sure."

"A rift in his family?" he asked, his mind working on the connection between Captain Stirling, his sister, and her husband, Colonel Pitt.

At once, she grew reluctant. "Of course. It was to be expected. Taking a 'criminal' like myself as his wife."

Resentment, anger, and bitterness laced her voice. The reaction caused him to wonder exactly what the rift had been and if it had caused her intense dislike of Colonel Pitt. The vitriolic way she had first spoken of him was rooted in something more personal than the man's alleged treason. Had there been some affair between Rose Stirling and Colonel Pitt? Or perhaps something darker or more violent? The idea piqued him: had there been something between them? To hate the man so viciously, there must have been. If so, were the so-called damning documents real or her vengeful fabrication?

To accuse a man, even one who was not particularly honest, of a capital offense such as treason was a very serious matter indeed. No doubt the charges had truth in them. The lady's motivation remained suspect, though. What proof had they of the attempted murder? None, for they had heard it only from her. Jack had said that Admiral Bellows's letter had not been specific. Could this clever woman have some kind of influence over him as well?

After much consideration, Stephen decided to keep these new thoughts to himself. The old pirate in Savannah had genuinely worried for Rose's life, and the five thousand pound bounty could not have been her fabrication. Even though, the who puzzle seemed to have pieces missing, and until they were provided, he would not be able to put them together to see the whole picture.


	14. The Lost Ones

Legrace:  
Jacques Cousteau has always been one of my great heroes. I'm actually thinking of studying somemarine science. As for Colonel Pitt, she'll be telling them what _really_ happened before they reach Jamaica, but there's a few more things I need to set up first.

Flossy:  
"_a tragic accident involving the flying jib and a bowl of fresh custard"  
_Not the custard!!! How cruel!!  
I assure you, you'll be satisfied when the truth comes out!  
She's an attractive woman and a good listener, which is more than enough for many men! In addition, there is that earthy sexuality that she got from her parents… On the other hand, it's really a strange situation. If there were other women present, even one other, the whole group dynamic would change. To tell you the truth, she probably wishes there were several other women to deflect some of the attention!

* * *

**The Lost Ones**

During the first dogwatch, Mrs. Stirling came to ask Mr. Pullings, who was the officer on duty, if she might borrow one of the spy-glasses. He gave his permission and she went aft to the starboard rail to study the cays that slipped past. He let her be until eight bells, and when the watch had changed, he went, curious and full of questions, to speak to her.

By then, she had put away the telescope and was sitting in her usual place against the rear taffrail. Wishing her a good afternoon, he settled beside her. "Are you familiar with these waters?" he asked her, for over time, he had told her about many of his adventures in the Indian Ocean and of his interest in sailing the treacherous Red Sea, but he had not found out about her experiences.

"Yes, very well," she smiled, nodding towards the starboard rail. "The Spanish call that little island _Cayo Hueso_ – Bone Cay. It was because of the native burial grounds they found there.

"Do you know it?"

"My yes, I've been there dozens of times. We used to trade for mahogany there and sell it for immense profit back in England!"

At his urging, she told of adventures aboard her husband's ship, _Calypso_, a fine three-master out of Bristol, and the hurricanes and gales, fortunes and misfortunes, fair and foul luck. As it was of interest to him, she described the details of the islands, the reefs, the difficult points in navigation, and the landings she knew.

"It has always been on islands that I have lived, and I know these waters as well as any other. There are innumerable little islands and rivers in the south of the peninsula. Places where it is possible to swim with sea creatures like manatees and dolphins."

"You swam with them?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes, many times, in the shallows where the water is nearly as warm as your blood. The sweet things are not afraid and will let you hold to them as they dart through the shallows. Such lovely, playful animals! We took the boys a few times even when they were small." She smiled wistfully at the memory. "When I was expecting, I made a little infant's gown and cap with dolphins embroidered all round the hem."

"Right little sailors," said Pullings with a charmed smile, for dolphins were considered lucky by all seafaring men. "From the cradle even!"

"For certain, sir." With a sad smile, her eyes took on a far-away look. "One child, a little girl, did not live long. She came too soon, you see."

"I'm sorry," he said, all cheerfulness gone.

"It was a sore loss, and we buried her in that gown and cap."

"I'm so dreadfully sorry," he said, reaching to clasp her hand. His was a rough, thickly-calloused mariner's hand, the kind of man's hand she had known all her life, so comforting now in its familiarity.

"After we lost her, my husband told me that her soul had gone into the sea. To a pretty young dolphin. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it comforted me in days of unbearable grief." She paused and took a deep breath, gripping his hand. In a near whisper, she added, "Now, when I see them swimming with us, I think perhaps her father is there with her."

He watched her with a profound feeling of sorrow and compassion. "Well, then he is," he told her softly.

Not sure if he was merely humoring her, she looked at him in surprise. In his expression she saw absolute sincerity, and the tiniest smile curved her lips. He understood. In that moment, there was complete and utter comprehension between them. When she looked down again, her fingers squeezed his and he tightened his grip a little.

Neither one spoke or moved much as some minutes slipped past. One of the cheerful young midshipmen approached with a salute. "Pardon me, ma'am. With the cap'n's compliments, if he and the doctor are not to eat up the table's cloth whilst waiting on ye, come to the Great Cabin, if you please."

It took her a moment to reply. "My apologies to those gentlemen; please tell them I shall come directly."

The lad ran off as both of them got to their feet. "Thank you, Mr. Pullings," she murmured, looking up at him. "Thank you, Tom."

He smiled and flushed happily at the use of his Christian name. "There is no need to thank me," he replied with absolute candor.

Smiling back, she nodded and then turned to hurry down to join her impatient host. Pullings stood for a minute, then looked up in time to catch the eyes of two of the crewmen who had been standing still and watching before they quickly turned their eyes away and went back to their work with unnatural vigor.

* * *

Note:  
Now called _Key West_


	15. Gossip and Speculation

Brownies! Yum! Thanks, Bean02 . Puppies and brownies, such wonderful things!

Legrace: were you judging at the _Mithril Awards_ this year? One of the gals there told me you've got your own "string quartet" at home.  
I usually write on loose leaf paper when I should be doing something else! I write one or two chapter at a time and only have a vague idea of what's going to happen. The only thing that's set in stone is what happened in the past (what Rose tells them of her past)

Flossy: I know you like rogues! I used to, but then I knew one in real life, and I've had enough. :-( (To tell you the truth, if I wanted a rogue, I would have picked Jack! He's rascal enough for any woman.) But I'd rather have a rough, sweaty man than a perfect, perfumed model in an Italian suit!  
Actually, I looked up the Most Roguish Thing I ever recall Tom Pullings doing….

'Who is Annie?' asked Jack.  
'Oh, sir,' cried Pullings, blushing crimson, 'she is only a young person where I go to have a cup of coffee sometimes – a very small cup of coffee – and to learn a little of the language – the customs of the country.'  
(_The Ionian Mission)  
_That said, maybe this will make you smile: when Rose told him about swimming with dolphins, he was probably imagining her naked in the warm water... he he he he he

I have to say, I borrowed & watched the M&C DVD, and I had forgotten the whole Hollum storyline! Also, Jack and Stephen are just like an old married couple. Not meaning slash or anything sexual, but they are settled comfortably together despite their differences.

**

* * *

**

Gossip and Speculation

The weather held on the westward leg of their journey, and now Stephen heard talk, still growing among the men, about the lady and the first officer. There was no way to know exactly what had prompted the gossip, for as was always true with such things, a small kernel of truth had reached ridiculous proportions. Sometimes he wondered if he should classify the hands' talk as a new species since it grew and changed on its own, like any organism. There were knowing grins and ribald jokes that Stephen thought were rather unfortunate, being at the lady's expense. On the other hand, the man had great respect and affection for Mr. Pullings and were genuinely glad for him in his reported success with the lady.

Such a liaison had not occurred, Stephen knew, for his own cabin was off the gunroom along with both of theirs. The only place on the ship for any real privacy was the captain's cabin, and there was certainly no opportunity for the alleged lovers to be alone there. Rose Stirling was mercifully oblivious to all that was being said, and her behavior remained friendly, warm, and unchanged. Some very slight discomfort in the gunroom alerted Stephen to the fact that the other officers had also heard the talk. Of course, Jack was always the last to know such things, and since the responsibility of keeping him informed fell to his lieutenant, it was hard for Stephen to judge what he knew. Too well-bred to speak of either the crew's gossip or the possible amorous attachments of the officers, there was no way to be sure; however, Stephen noticed Jack watching them with a thoughtful expression sometimes. So, even Jack had heard something.

As for Tom Pullings himself, Stephen could not make out how much he had heard. He rather thought that Tom had heard a little but did not know for sure. He was not the kind of man who would eavesdrop or listen at doors, so he probably knew nothing for certain. On the other hand, the running of the ship was largely his responsibility and an officer of his experience would be able to ascertain the mood of the men as easily (and as magically, to Stephen's perception) as he rated the weather.

The turn southward around Cuba brought squalls, but nothing like the gales of the Atlantic. Rose simply put on her canvas hat and boat cloak and went up on deck. Stephen found that he preferred to sit below decks most of the time, so he was usually alone or tending to his patients. At first, it had seemed odd to him that she enjoyed the inclement weather so much. After some time, however, it became clear to him that it was not the weather itself that she welcomed but rather the opportunity to be of use that it presented. On rough seas, they were often shorthanded when landsmen who hadn't yet got their sea legs took ill or when able seamen suffered sprains and bruises in the wild lurching of the ship. Stephen discovered that when the captain was not on deck, Pullings, Mowett, and Allen allowed Mrs. Stirling to lend a hand with some simple tasks, which pleased her and amused them.

Once, he had asked her if she did not fear the storms and the possibility of being swept out to sea. She replied without really thinking. "When the time comes for me to go to the sea, I should like to do so on deck, with my eyes open and in complete awareness. Not huddled below like a rat in cramped quarters."

Those days when she was one of them, lending a hand, she was most alive, incandescent with her life force and the devil himself dancing in her eyes. Dangerous, Stephen knew, as he saw the way some of the others looked at her, including her reputed lover. They couldn't be blamed, of course, for her vibrancy and smoldering sensuality were powerfully provocative in the closed society of the ship. Stephen himself was not immune to her when she was like this. He wondered if anyone was.

While Mrs. Stirling was absent from his little office, he decided to do a little research and laid his snare carefully. Captain Howard and the marines were quite independent from the running of the ship, and during the foul weather, he sometimes sat in the gunroom when the other officers were all on deck or elsewhere. Stephen eventually caught him there alone, and although there had never been strong regard between them, their being so different, he decided to approach the captain to determine if he knew anything useful about the mysterious Colonel Pitt. Knowing Mr. Howard, however, he decided that frankness would be more effective than any attempt at deception.

"It is a curious thing, to be sure, captain," he said once they were settled together with a mug of spiced ale, "that Mrs. Stirling seems to dislike her husband's brother-in-law so intensely. Wouldn't you say?"

Captain Howard sipped his ale and considered the question. "No, doctor," he finally said. "I can't quite agree with you. I think it has less to do with the man himself that with what he represents."

"I don't quite follow."

"The lady's father was a Yank, was he not?" he began.

"What makes you say that?" Stephen was generally puzzled, for he knew very well that Flint had been English and his wife had been a high-born lady.

"His house is in Savannah. If he were an Englishman, it is difficult to imagine him dwelling in such a place."

"Yes, I see what you mean."

"Well, it is no secret that the sight of a red coat can have a peculiar effect on people. On the one hand, there are many young ladies who have an eye for an officer in his regimentals." Howard grinned and shook his head. "It was quite a heady thing in the days of my youth, I assure you. Those days are past for me, but the lads are enjoying the attention these days.

"The reverse can be true, as well. The Yanks hate the sight of us." He sighed a little and then smiled. "I don't blame the lady. Such things are taught by the parents, and she simply can't abide the uniform. In fact, I feel a bit sorry that an otherwise fine lady could hold such prejudice."

The words were not at all what Stephen had expected. "I believe I was once introduced to the Colonel. He is a handsome man, I seem to recall, quite young and dashing."

Captain Howard's eyes grew wide. "Colonel Jeremy Pitt?" he asked. Then, he laughed. "Not by a long sea mile, doctor! He is a rather portly fellow, very bald. A popular man among his fellow officers, but not among the young ladies, I fear."

"I see. I must have been mistaken." Despite his polite reply, Stephen's mind was racing.

Would Rose have cuckolded Richard Stirling, for whom she seemed to have genuinely cared, and who was, by all accounts, a good-looking man, for this Colonel Pitt? In everything he had learned about her, it seemed impossible. Had Pitt forced himself upon her? It seemed the most likely explanation, but something did not quite feel right about it. The gentle lady who sat with him in the afternoons was no victim, and the fiery woman that made all of them feel like virile men, the woman who had admitted to killing four men with the help of her small children, _that_ woman would have not allowed a man to live after such a violation.

The tangle was unraveling slowly. Only a few pieces of the puzzle were missing, and the ones he had all fit into place.


	16. Hellcat

I've been picking this scene apart and just can't seem to satisfy myself. I thought the best thing to do was just put it up and move on. I have a few points to make. First of all, I don't have any children and don't have any idea what Rose has gone through. Second, sailors are notoriously superstitious. And lastly, sailors have a strong aversion to hearing anything even remotely gynecological (whereas Stephen does not) That's why Jack & Tom can talk lightly together even after what they've heard. tghey're distancing themselves from wha they've heard.

Legrace and Flossy, you wicked girls!  
Any erotic encounter between those characters would have to come under the auspices of "Silliness" though, just like the scene with the 'bet'.  
If you watch the "Deleted Scenes" on the second disc of the DVD, I think my personal objections to Captain Howard are obvious. My favorite line (when the song of the humpback whales is giving them a fright), Stephen says, "Perhaps it is the mother of the creature that Captain Howard shot." On the other hand, like Miss Flossy, I don't object to his appearance too much!  
My absolute favorite scene is when Stephen, Blakeney, and Padeen are eating their lunch surrounded by about 20 tortoises who are munching away on their leaves.

Legrace:  
Flint, whom I wish was my original character, is the most famous dead pirate in all literature. I shudder to try and write him!! (but it might be worth it to have the honor of you beta reading!!) About that quotation: he is embarrassed for 2 reasons. First of all, he is a married man (and seemingly happily married) and secondly, such things are not spoken of among officers. Stephen is a keen observer and brilliant man, but he is sometimes as subjective as the rest of us!

**

* * *

**

**Hellcat**

Running southeast once they had cleared the west coast of Cuba, they found fair weather again. The hot sun was tempered by the fresh sea breezes, and joy bordering on giddiness settled over the ship. During the afternoon watch one lovely, hot day with a stiff breeze, Stephen sat with Rose as she finished the hem of her gown. Pullings and Mowett were studying the chart of Cuba nearby, but the two of them were more chatting than working, calling witty remarks and trying to make the lady laugh.

"I am afraid I shall not be able to wear it until after Kingston," she sighed dramatically as she worked. "None of the buttons I have will suit. I know a little shop just of the main square that sells such things for ladies. I shall get a score of tiny pearl buttons when we arrive and have it ready to dine the next evening."

"Pearl buttons?" asked Mowett with mock-seriousness. "I'm afraid it just won't suit that chiffon, ma'am. Too much white."

"Too much white?" She stood up, holding the gown in front of her and looking down at it. The whisper light silk chiffon was pure white with violets and ivy twined on it. "Green buttons would ruin the effect, I fear."

"Violet, then," Stephen volunteered. "It could be rather dramatic against all the white."

One of the crew called from the waist, and Mr. Mowett, who was on watch, went to see what it was. He then called back for them to join him, as he had once before, for a pod of dolphins paced the ship. The lady set aside her gown and went with Stephen and Pullings down to join those who were watching the friendly animals. They were easy to see in the clear water of the Caribbean, their sleek gray skins visible just beneath the surface.

Stephen noticed that Tom Pullings put his hand on Rose's shoulder and squeezed gently. With a grateful smile, she glanced at him and reached to pat his hand. Their eyes held for a moment, and then they both turned back.

As Stephen was just registering the unguarded affection in that glance, the loud report of a rifle shot caught the attention of everyone on deck. From the forward rail, feet planted firmly, Captain Howard was aiming for the creatures. Pullings and Mowett shared a distasteful look that spoke volumes but said nothing aloud, and the doctor regarded the marine captain sourly.

"_Mr. Howard_!"

Mrs. Stirling pushed her way over to him, and startled crewmen stepped out of her way. Pullings muttered a curse and went after her, but it was too late to prevent what was going to happen. She took hold of his rifle and yanked it out of his hands with one swift motion. "What is the matter with you, you whey-faced imbecile?" she bellowed. Enraged, she glared at the man with fury in her eyes.

"A word with you, Mrs. Stirling, if you please," called Pullings sternly as he made his way through the group of stunned men.

Work had stopped. All the men were silent, watching, for the lady had transformed into a Valkyrie, terrible in righteous anger. Captain Howard had not recovered from the shock: he still stood staring at her with his mouth ajar.

Pullings took her firmly by the arm. "Doctor, the lady is ill and requires your attention. Ma'am, put down the rifle, and I shall take you below."

Rose glared at him with a furious, mutinous look and drew in a breath to retort, but he stared back grimly. A moment, they stood there, and then she dropped the rifle and went with him without a word. Stephen followed, unable to comprehend what had provoked such a ferocious reaction in the lady and also questioning why he had ever wondered how the gossip had started.

The captain looked up expectantly as they knocked and entered, and he frowned when he saw the dark expressions on both their faces. "I'm sorry, sir," said Pullings.

"What is it?" he asked cautiously, for he _had_ heard some of the talk, and it was exceedingly rare that Tom was in a temper.

"I am afraid there has been some unpleasantness between Mrs. Stirling and Captain Howard," he said just as Stephen entered.

Free of his restraining hand on her arm, Rose began to pace. "Unpleasantness??" she cried, seething with anger. "That man should be keel-hauled!" She stalked back and forth like a caged wildcat, looking about as dangerous. "What kind of man are you to let him get away with such a crime?"

"I am sure that Captain Flint would have run up his mates from a yardarm or keel-hauled an honorable man for ignorance," Pullings said back to her with a reproving glance and a sharp edge to his voice. "But what Captain Howard did, appalling as it may be to you, is not a crime, and you owe him an apology."

"Apology??" she snapped, looking at him with disbelief. "Not a crime? And you call yourself a mariner!"

His clear eyes flashed to dark blue. "Ma'am, you are on this ship as a guest. I advise you to remember it."

As they faced each other, Stephen felt his heart lurch violently in his chest. It took quite a lot to make Tom Pullings angry, and now that his ire was roused, the situation was getting a bit too precarious. The lady was aflame with violent passion no less dangerous than his. Maybe even more, he thought. The two of them, like a bear and a she-wolf, seemed at that moment capable of tearing each other apart with claws and teeth, and despite Tom's advantage of size and strength, Stephen wasn't at all sure that such a death match would have gone his way. On the other hand, such a heated exchange bespoke volumes about the passions simmering between them.

"Why do you stand by and allow such slaughter?" she cried.

"That is quite enough from the two of you," said Jack at this point. "Mrs. Stirling, Mr. Pullings, you are both to calm down and hold your peace until I say otherwise." After a brief hesitation where they continued to glare at each other, they both turned to him. When he was satisfied that the row would not continue, he turned to Stephen. "I hope you can tell me what is going on in a dispassionate account."

"By all means, though I cannot understand it." He described the scene correctly and quite objectively, and when he had finished speaking, Jack sighed and rubbed his head, but not before Stephen had seen the glint of amusement in his eyes.

"There are few things that sailors are as superstitious about as killing a dolphin or an albatross," Jack told him. "Causes fatal luck."

"But not a crime."

"No." He looked over at Rose, who was calmer but still frowning darkly. Pullings also was taking deep breaths and seemed almost back to himself. "Mr. Pullings, you were certainly right in coming here for this private discussion, but there is no excuse for quarrelling with a lady under any circumstance."

"Aye, sir," he replied dutifully.

Then, he looked at Rose. "Well, my dear, I will not say that I don't understand your feelings in the matter, but you must own that your actions were sadly impetuous. Now, I won't have discord on this ship, not from anyone. If a man aboard behaves with impropriety, you are to tell me _privately_, not berate him on deck in front of the crew."

She nodded mutely.

He sighed, studying her. "You insulted Captain Howard quite publicly, and thus your apology must be public as well."

A look of disgust passed over her features. "I know it very well and will do what is right in this matter, you may rely upon it."

"Rose," began Stephen carefully. "This impassioned display seems to me inspired by something deeper than mere anger."

At his words, she grew still, cautious, a reaction he had seen several times before when a question had struck home with her.

"There is no question that your life of late has been one ordeal after another; however, there is no clear connection between Captain Howard's actions and your troubles."

Silently she looked at him, debating in her mind how to reply.

"Was it your little girl you were thinking of?" asked Pullings. "Is that what set you off?"

She blanched at his words. It was a terrible look, the one she gave Pullings, like the look of one whose enemy had thrust a cutlass deeply into his chest. What he had said cut her to the quick.

"My dear! You look overcome!" Stephen went to help her to a chair. "A glass of brandy, Jack, before the lady swoons."

Looking from one to the other, Jack paused before calling for Killick to bring the requested brandy. "I should not have said anything," said Pullings.

"No, it's just as well." She managed a bleak smile at him. "It's better that you all know."

"About what Colonel Pitt did to you?" asked Stephen.

Her eyes flew to his in shock. "How… how did you know?"

"Easy, my dear. Drink some brandy. You are to tell us everything. Start at the beginning."

She took a gulp and winced as it burned her throat. Then, she placed one hand over her forehead and eyes and took several deep breaths. "You will not like what you hear, especially those of you who are squeamish."

"As I medical man, I am well acquainted with the horrors of men and nature, my dear," Stephen assured her.

"Very well, doctor. So. The beginning…" She drew in a breath and gripped the glass. "Well, after Richard and I escaped from the _Walrus_ and we were married, he was very poor, having lost almost everything to the pirates, and the _Calypso_ was in need of repairs. We lived on the ship, running little routes among the islands of the Caribbean, and then getting back into the business of shipping to England.

"About that time, I discovered that I was going to have a child. Of course, we were thrilled, and though still very poor, we had enough. Towards the later months, I fell ill with quite a serious fever. The financial situation was dire, though, and he set out without me. Since we had no home apart from the ship, he took me to stay with his sister, Mrs. Pitt, thinking I would be safe and well-taken care of there.

"I did not know then how Colonel Pitt recognized me, but now I know that he knew my father and had seen me before. Well, the first thing he did was to have his servants lock me in the cellar as he sent for the local sheriff. Ill as I was and expecting a child within two months, I struggled and fought them, for I knew very well that it meant the gallows for me."

"You don't say…" began Pullings with a look of horror on his face.

"Yes. It is why the baby came early," she admitted, then looked at Stephen. "Have you helped many women deliver their babies, doctor? Then you can imagine my predicament. I was but eighteen years old and alone in the cold and dark to deliver my first child. No matter how I screamed, Pitt would let no one come to help me."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered. No wonder she hated the man!

"I shall spare you the details, but she was eventually born alive." Tears slid down her cheeks. "I survived, obviously, but she only lived a few hours." She drew out her handkerchief as she began to sob.

Stephen glanced at Jack, whose expression was stony and then at Pullings, who had turned away and was leaning one arm against the bulwark. He let her cry, and when she had regained control of herself and wiped her face, urged her to take another sip of brandy.

"Then they took me to prison!" She laughed bitterly. "I thought it was the end, and it nearly was, for I was to be tried and hanged before Richard returned. He knew of none of this, you see. Then Admiral Bellows heard something of my case and came to see me. I was half-mad at the time, as you can imagine, but he had known my mother in her youth. He and Mrs. Bellows took me in – he was able to have me released during my convalescence. They were so kind! And they delayed my trial until Richard had returned, for it was only he and some of his men, whom I had rescued, who could testify on my behalf.

"In the end, of course, I was not hanged. I told them the little I knew of some smugglers and pirates that lead them to capture criminals far more dangerous that I. And so, I was granted clemency and became an honest woman. A year later, we had our healthy Silvester, to our joy, and then Christopher." She sighed deeply. "Had it not been for Pitt, I might have my Lily still."

Stephen nodded slowly. "And Captain Howard reminds you very much of Pitt, does he not?"

"Yes!" he declared, the anger dissipating some of her grief. "The same, smug, supercilious attitude as the villain!"

"Of course," said Jack. "I see it now. It is all so simple."

"For you, perhaps," she sighed. "Well, as I told you, I had been estranged from my father for many years. In his letter, he told me that he had only on his deathbed learned what happened, and it was his opinion that Pitt killed his granddaughter. Thus this cruise is his revenge, not mine, for I knew nothing of Pitt's treason before reading it in his letter."

"Have you no motive of revenge?" Stephen asked.

"No. What use is revenge? It cannot bring my child back."

Drawing in a deep breath, he blew the air out in a huge sigh. "There is still one thing. You said that the men tried to murder you after you had received the letter. Who knew of the letter's contents at that point?"

"Well, perhaps the Terayans, for they posted it for him. Other than that, only Admiral Bellows and some other gentlemen at the admiralty."

"Do you know their names?"

"I do not. Why?"

"My dear, you have been compromised." He looked at Jack. "Is the _Walrus_ still following?"

"We have not had sighting since we left Savannah." He frowned at the doctor. "Do you think this involves someone in the admiralty?"

"It seems likely." He turned back to the lady. "Now, Rose, this is very important. Is there any other chart of the island?"

"No," she said without hesitation.

"Does anyone else have the ability to find the island?"

"Well…" She swirled the remaining brandy in the glass, studying the way it caught the light. "I must say yes. These men, if they are my father's crew, are not educated in setting a course the way we are. They learned their craft through trial and error. Of course it limits the ability to navigate in the modern way, but it gives them one advantage: there are probably those among them who can find the island without knowing the longitude and latitude."

"But they can't cross the reef," said Jack.

"No."

He and Stephen shared a look. "What exalted names will this account book reveal, I wonder," Stephen said softly. Then he looked kindly at Rose. "Well! What a trying day this must be for you, my dear! I shall instruct you to get yourself to bed and rest this evening. Tomorrow, after breakfast, we shall deal with whatever unpleasantries remain."

Jack was about to order Mr. Pullings to escort the lady to her cabin when he thought that might not be the wisest move at that precise moment. Instead, he asked Stephen to go with her, and when they were gone, he looked at his first officer, not knowing quite what to say.

"I'm sorry for my behavior earlier, sir," said Tom. "I should– "

"Ah well." Jack waved away his words absentmindedly. "A woman like that would provoke any man. Like one of the hellcats on the old Spanish Main, eh?"

"To be sure, sir." Tom actually grinned. "Almost like old Flint himself roaring at the hands. _Whey-faced imbecile_, she called him."

Jack had to smile. In truth, he was sorry he had missed it. "But it's a dangerous, crude quality in a woman, we must not forget. And she is to pilot the ship past the reef." He considered it. "What do you think, Tom? Will the men take orders from her?"

"From what we saw today, they had better."


	17. A Private Apology

OK Lady Legrace and Miss Flossy, you terribly naughty girls! There should be a little present in your inboxes. Nothing like the wild bacchanalian debauches that go on in the Dark Tower, of course. But thanks again to you both for taking the time to give specific constructive feedback.

Don't worry about Captain Howard. Rose will very shortly be forced to eat crow when she sees how wrong she's been about him. Also, look for him and Mr. Allen to play a bigger part once they get to Kingston. Now all we need is Harry Belafonte, steel drums, and some rum drinks served in coconuts.

Legrace: about the birdhouse, it was originally jus a sweet sad thing, and I was going to make Mrs. Terayen give her the chart wrapped up in the chiffon. I just couldn't get it to work in my mind, though. Flint was a smart man and he probably knew that there was no one he could leave the chart with. And yes, the parrot in _Treasure Island_ is called Captain Flint and was always saying "Pieces of eight!" However, if you ever read that story (one of my favorites) you'll see that the map, the mates, the treasure – it's all the legacy of Flint, who died before the story starts so all we know about him is what the others say.

Here is something I'm copying from a site that compares the movie and book characters:  
"Much to Stephen Maturin's dismay, Mr Howard is an enthusiastic slayer of all wildlife whenever and wherever the occasion arises."

Here is one of my favorite O'Brian quotes about Stephen (I've done things like this):  
"Few creatures in the sea gave Stephen Maturin more delight than dolphins,  
and here in the Strait of Otranto he had them by the score. One particular  
troop had been with the ship ever since he finished with the sick-bay, and  
he had been watching them all this time, as far forward as he could get,  
leaning against the warm figurehead and gazing down. The dolphins would  
come racing up the larboard, the sunlit side, and leap all together before  
crossing and going down to play in the wake before running up again: some-  
times they would scratch themselves against the frigates side or even her  
cutwater before turning, but generally they leapt, and he would see their  
amiable faces clear out of the water. The same troop, with two exceptionally  
fat, profusely spotted dolphins in it, had appeared several times before; he  
knew most of the individuals, and he was convinced that they were aware  
of his presence. He hoped that they recognized him and even liked him,  
and each time they rose, he waved."  
_Treason's Harbour_

* * *

A Private Apology

Feeling rather awful for the way he had spoken to the lady and parting without any friendly words, Tom Pullings made his way down to the gunroom to ask her pardon. He knocked on the door to her cabin and opened it when he heard her call to come in. He stood casting his eyes around his own familiar quarters, now so foreign. The cot had been hung low for her, and there was a little rug on the floor. His shelf held her a few books along with some colorful glass jars. On the table was a half-finished letter, a leather writing case open now with the inkpot and sealing wax set out upon the tabletop, an open book set face-down, a small frame with a portrait of two children, plus her blue birdhouse.

The lady herself wore only her plain night gown and was reaching for her dressing gown, her tousled mane of red hair loose down her back. Before his mind could even register that he should turn away or avert his eyes, he stared at her, at the outline of her body revealed in the thin cotton and the cloud of silky hair. A strong urge to bury his fingers in that thick red hair seized him, leaving him feeling almost breathless.

"Mr. Pullings!" she exclaimed, startled, when she saw him. "I thought you must be the doctor coming to check on me!"

"Forgive me." He tore his eyes away as she slipped on the dressing gown. "I had only wanted to share a cordial word with you after speaking so ugly today. It will keep until tomorrow. Good evening, ma'am, sorry to disturb you."

"Wait. I should like to speak with you as well after our unfortunate row." She quickly fastened the front of her dressing gown. They stood there for a moment in embarrassment, both knowing it was quite improper for him to even be there.

"Are those your boys?" He gestured at the portrait.

"They are." She went to take it up in order to show it to him. Then she paused and tilted her head to one side. "Perhaps, if we sat in the gunroom…?" she asked uncertainly, for she did not want to face Captain Howard tonight.

"Yes, of course, and there is no one here," he said in relief and led her out into the larger room and called for one of the lads who waited on the gunroom to fetch a glass of wine for them. When they had sat down together, she showed him the portrait. The two small boys were obviously brothers with the same dark curls and the same round dark eyes.

"They are certainly fine-looking boys." It was what any mother wanted to hear, but it was also true in this circumstance.

"Thank you." She beamed with pleasure as he handed it back to her.

Feeling strangely uncomfortable, he had to force himself to look at her. "Ma'am, I am heartily ashamed of speaking to you so roughly this afternoon."

She chuckled. "Please don't concern yourself, for I certainly spoke more roughly to you!"

He could not disagree and he grinned, shaking his head in wonder. "There was a moment when I thought you were going to charge me with naming my seconds."

His words and the amused way he said them made her laugh delightedly. "A duel at dawn! I'm sure Captain Howard would have been thrilled if we chose pistols."

Laughing, he glanced around to be certain no one had overheard her remark. Then, he turned back to her. "I beg of you not to speak thus. It can only mean more trouble."

"Yes, you are right," she sighed, looking a bit chastened. "From first to last, this has all been my fault."

"Well, I did my part, I'm sure. It was folly for me to quarrel with you. I knew perfectly well why you were angry."

"As did I." She placed her hand on top of his. "I beg you to forget what I said. I know you are a fine man and a master mariner. Forgive me for my shrewish tongue, for I spoke words that I did not mean and now sorely regret the pain that they caused."

Hearing this and seeing the earnest expression relieved him immensely for her words had stung! His shoulders relaxed and he turned his hand up so that hers rested in his. "Thank you. I think we must both forget those heated words."

She smiled ruefully. "I am sure it is mostly my fault, for I have never been able to bridle my anger with certain people. Richard and I used to quarrel fiercely but held no grudges." She sighed at the memory. "No one could ever roil me the way he did." Then she grinned at him with the familiar glint in her eyes and squeezed his hand. "You are in good company, Mr. Pullings!"

"I?" he laughed. "It cannot be! No, ma'am, it is _you_ who roil _me_, for I have never in my life lost my temper with a woman."

"Ah, now you are speaking untrue, sir," she teased. "Never?"

"If you are accusing me of dishonesty, it is you who provoke me to such ungentlemanlike behavior," he shot back with a grin.

"I _provoke_ you?" she asked in a low, silken tone, gazing at him warmly. "Hmm. _Provoke_."

They both looked up when they heard a step, and they let go of each other's hand. Mr. Mowett entered the gunroom, and when he saw the two of them sitting together and laughing, holding hands, both a little flushed and the lady in a near-scandalous state of undress, it took him a moment to hide his surprise. "I hope you are feeling better, ma'am."

"Much better, thank you, sir." She smiled at him. "Although the doctor has ordered me to rest a bit."

He stood still a second looking at her, for she seemed to glow with happiness. Like the days on deck when she became one with the elements, the fierce, unfettered joy made her seem almost molten. "I am glad to hear it," he finally said. "I shall pass the word on deck that I have spoken to you, and I am sure that all will be relieved."

"How very kind of you," she replied, looking touched by the concern.

"Ma'am." With a polite bow, Mowett left the gunroom, and a little silence fell. They did not look at one another. Although both of them knew that Will Mowett was far too much of a gentleman to speak of what he had seen, awareness of propriety had returned in a rush at his surprised expression.

"Perhaps it would be best if you did go and get some rest," he said slowly, sounding a little awkward. "First, though, I should like to say how sorry I am that I spoke out of turn today. About your little girl. I had no right to say it."

"No – it was because I thought you would tell them…" She stopped uncomfortably and reached to push a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well," she said and then stopped again. Finally, she said, "They would not have understood, or I would have felt silly."

"Perhaps. That is the last I shall speak of it, for I know it was spoke in confidence." He heaved a great sigh. "Hearing your words today grieved me no end, I must own. I am quite in agreement with Captain Flint's opinion. Now that we know all, we shall have Pitt hanged like the damned dog he is – traitor, coward, and unnatural man preying upon a helpless woman."

She blinked at him in surprise, for he spoke with anger that was unusual for him. Seeing her reaction and thinking it was the uncouth language that had upset her, he hastened to add something softer.

"Forgive my coarse way of speaking. In truth, I am glad to know the truth, painful though it is. I am only sorry that there is no way upon this Earth to fix it."

Her eyes clouded with a veil of grief and she looked away. Realizing he had said the wrong thing, he cast about for something kind to say. His eye fell upon the portrait.

"Your boys certainly have promising careers ahead of them with the patronage of Admiral Bellows."

The dramatic segue made her smile, and sweet affection pierced her sorrow as she gazed again at him. Her smile then disappeared, and she studied him, seeming troubled and uncertain. Determined not to say the wrong thing yet again, he remained silent, wondering how to offer her comfort.

Unexpectedly, she got to her feet, so he rose as well. "Tom," she said, not quite looking at him. "May I kiss you?"

Shock and excitement jolted him at these words. "Of course," he replied as evenly as possible. He had a few times seen the doctor kiss her upon both cheeks, as Frenchmen did, and he thought that was what she meant.

Coming close, she reached her hands to his shoulders, for he was very much taller, and his own arms closed around her almost automatically. He leaned down, and Rose touched her lips to his, soft and light as the brush of a butterfly's wings. She drew back slightly to gaze into his eyes with a searching look as if she were looking for something within him. And then she moved to embrace him closer, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

He held her while a riot of feelings coursed through him. The lady was trembling, and he knew very well that despite anything he might feel, tenderness was called for now, so he took in deep breaths to try and calm himself. Stroking her hair, he murmured, "My pretty Rose." Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement, but when he glanced over, there was nothing. At the moment, whomever might be there could go to the devil as far as he was concerned.

They stood there embracing for several minutes until she again pulled back and looked up at him with her lovely dark eyes wide. "I must go."

"Indeed, you must," he said back, forcing all thoughts from his mind except her well-being. Turning to the table, he took up the portrait and pressed it into her hands. "Sleep well."

"Good night, Tom," she said very quietly.

"Good night, Rose." When her door was closed, he heaved a sigh and sank back down in his chair, rubbing his hand over his eyes. On the one hand, she was so terribly helpless and vulnerable, and on the other hand, she tortured him almost beyond endurance.

"Buck up, lad," he told himself as he got to his feet and headed out of the gunroom.


	18. A Public Apology

Some quotes:

_Two paragraphs about Mr. Allen  
_As he spoke, he looked intently at Allen. a tall, upright, middle-aged man with a fine strong face. wearing the plain uniform of a master in the Royal navy, and as he took of his hat to a superior officer, a lieutenant of barely twenty, Jack saw that his hair was grey. 'I like the look of him,' he said.

It was just as well that Dundas had spoken highly of Mr. Allen, for otherwise Jack would have made little of him: Allen did not do himself justice at all. From his boyhood Jack had been an open friendly creature, expecting to like and be liked, and although he was by no means forward or overconfident he was not at all given to shyness, and he found it difficult to conceive that the emotion could still paralyse a man of fifty or more, filling him with a repulsive reserve, so that he responded to no civil advance, never smiled, nor spoke except in reply to direct questions.  
_**Far Side of the World**_

****

_Years after passing for lieutenant, he _finally_ gets his promotion…  
_'A gentleman to see you, sir,' said the waiter. 'A lieutenant.'

'A lieutenant?' said Stephen; and after a pause, 'Desire him to walk up.'

A thundering on the stairs, as though someone had released a bull; the door burst inwards, trembling, and Pullings appeared, lighting up the room with his happiness and his new blue coat. 'I'm made, sir,' he cried, seizing Stephen's hand. 'Made at last! My commission came down with the mail. Oh, wish me joy!'

'Why, so I do,' Said Stephen, wincing in that iron grip, 'if more joy you can contain – if more felicity will not make your cup overflow. Have you been drinking, Lieutenant Pullings? Pray, sit in a chair like a rational being, and do not spring about the room.'

'Oh, say it again, sir,' said the lieutenant, sitting and gazing at Stephen with pure love beaming from his face. 'Not a drop.'  
_**Post Captain**_

****

_Stephen's desperate proposal  
_'Are you going to take me into keeping too, Stephen?' she asked, with a smile.

'No,' he said, endeavoring to imitate her. he privately crossed his bosom, and then, speaking somewhat at random in his agitation, he went on, 'I have never made a woman an offer of marriage – am ignorant of the accepted forms. I am sorry for my ignorance. But I beg you will have the goodness, the very great goodness, to marry me.' As she did not reply, he added, 'It would oblige me extremely, Diana.'

'Why, Stephen,' she said at last, still gazing at him with candid wonder. 'Upon my word and honor, you astonish me. I can hardly speak. it was the kindest thing you could possibly have said to me. but your friendship, your affection, is leading you away; it is your dear good heart full of pity for a friend that…"

'No, no, no,' he cried passionately. 'This is a deliberate, long-mediated statement, conceived a great while since, and matured over twelve thousand miles and more. I am painfully aware,' he said, clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back, 'that my appearance does not serve me; that there are objections to my person, my birth, and my religion; and that my fortune is nothing in comparison with that of a wealthy man. But I am not the penniless nonentity I was when we first met; I can offer an honourable if not a brilliant marriage; and at the very lowest I can provide my wife – my widow, my relict – with a _decent competence_, and assured future.'  
_**H.M.S. Surprise**_

_**  
**_

**

* * *

**

A Public Apology

In the warm air of the cabin, Jack shed his waistcoat and neckcloth. Stephen had gone to check on Rose, for they had both been more than a little concerned after hearing the horror that she had endured, but he returned only a very short time later with a thoughtful look on his face. "Jack, would you say I am a landsman?"

The question surprised Jack, and he looked at the doctor in bewilderment. "You are rated an officer, of course, as surgeon."

"No, that's not what I meant. Am I a landsman? I am certainly no mariner."

"You are something of a landsman, though not what you once were." He looked at the other man suspiciously. "Is the lady not yet calmed? Do not say she called you a landsman in a fit of pique."

"Not at all," he remarked slowly, pouring himself some of the port and then going to a chair by the window.

"Oh?"

"I didn't actually speak with her. She was making amends with Tom Pullings for the harsh things she said today, I believe."

"Ah, yes. Well, that's good. Poor man! I've never seen Tom in such a state. I feared they'd come to blows in another minute."

"Or something equally passionate."

"Yes, I've heard the talk as well. Damned unfortunate." Jack was not of a vindictive nature and still looked with benevolence upon Rose despite her earlier rejection of his advances. Seeing her and his lieutenant together made him wonder at the truth behind the rumors. Whatever had happened, he did not think badly of either of them, but he did allow himself a bit of self-pity for losing out on the affection of such a hot-blooded lady. Much as he disapproved of out-spoken and headstrong women, Jack had to admit that the lady never looked so well as when she was in a passion. Tall and straight with her head held high and unconscious grace, she was completely unaware of how alluring she was.

"Surely, she is not the first lady so besmirched by talk among the hands."

"Oh, the men will talk; that's not what concerns me. You see, I was planning on waylaying the _Gallant_ and lifting one very young mid from Captain Hawkes. Can you imagine that little sea-faring lad of eight coming on as a mid? It's _eleven years_ before he can hope of making lieutenant! No, I think you can't understand how valuable one experienced boy can be in helping the greenhorns learn their place. For sure, I want one of those young Stirlings amidships here! Both, if I could. I cannot, however, in good conscience, expose a little child to such gossip about his mama."

In fact, Jack was very fond of youngsters and as often as he spoke of the midshipmen's laziness and uselessness and the unfortunate future of the navy with such wastrels, he also had a care for their well-being and oversaw their education with pleasure.

Stephen was not really listening, for his thoughts were elsewhere. His surprise at discovering Rose had told Tom about her premature daughter without mentioning it to him. The remarkable ease with which she enticed Tom into a rage, and also that not-quite-chaste little kiss he had happened upon when he had stopped by the gunroom to check on her. Her rather interesting, impetuous way of disarming and unmanning Captain Howard. "Did you know that the officers let her take the place of some of the crew on rough seas?"

Jack nodded impatiently. "Some things on board a ship require me to look the other way sometimes. It does no harm and certainly puts her in no danger. For certain, she is more of a mariner than the landsmen and the boys. And any matter, she is really counted as one of the Surprises by now." A moment passed while his expression grew darker and more thunderous, and then finally he cried, "What sort of man could do that to a young girl expecting a child? No matter what her crime?"

"A desperate man," Stephen replied. "And her crime was just knowing too much. Many women die in childbirth. Perhaps he thought it would be easier to get rid of her that way. He may have thought she knew something and was afraid he would be exposed at her trial."

Jack considered it, trying to see it from that viewpoint. "Then why not kill her outright and be certain that the deed was done?"

"With his wife as a witness? Do you think that such a coward would have the nerve? He could explain this saying he thought she was attempting to trick them into opening the door."

"Foul bully," muttered Jack grimly, shaking his head.

"Jack, once we have the papers aboard, do you think the death sentence against her will be rescinded?"

"Little reason to eliminate her once we have the evidence," said Jack. "Though perhaps they will afterward come gunning for us." He swore and shook his head. "The only way to succeed there is to sink us and leave no survivors."

* * *

During the morning watch, Stephen came to fetch her. Rose looked almost like she was being lead off to her execution. "I am ready," she told him with a sigh. 

"Rose, he is a gentleman," he chided. "Do you really think he is going to make this difficult for you?"

She cast an annoyed glance at him but had to admit that he was right. "Oh, you must know by now that I have little control over my feelings. I'm a poor excuse even for a common harridan trying to play the lady."

Stephen, who had seen nothing of a harridan but rather a consort worthy of one of the ancient warrior princes, smiled at the thought. "It would depend on one's definition of a lady, I should think."

"No double meanings and plays on words today, I beg of you," she asked a trifle sharply, but she was so nervous and agitated that he let it pass without taking offense.

Once on deck, she could see that it was another magnificent morning running fast for Jamaica. Word had gotten around, as it invariably did, and all hands were hanging about. All the officers, including the captain, were gathered at the waist of the ship so that everyone could witness what was to occur. Out of kindness and consideration for her, gentlemen all, they had arranged themselves so that her distasteful errand was as easy as possible. "It's shaping up to be quite a show with me as the main attraction," she muttered to Stephen before steeling herself and approaching the group amidst many quiet calls of, "Good morning, ma'am." He was forced to smile in appreciation, for the event had certainly been staged with the skill of an opera.

They all turned to her and took off their hats when she approached. Without hesitating, she came to Captain Howard and looked directly into his eyes. "Captain Howard, please accept my apology for speaking to you in a most inappropriate way yesterday," she said loud enough for all to hear. "I am afraid it was most unladylike of me."

"My dear Mrs. Stirling!" he exclaimed, a smile lighting his face. "No such apology is necessary! It is enough to see you are recovered from your fever."

The gracious reply left her momentarily speechless.

"How concerned we all were when we discovered you were ill! It is a tonic to see you so well and in such good mettle. Come, dear lady!" He offered her his arm. "Will you take a turn with me?"

"Yes, of course," she replied, going with him but a confused frown darkening her face. Once they had a bit of privacy on the quarterdeck, she felt compelled to speak. "Sir, you are too kind by far," she said, taking her hand from his arm and facing him.

"Nonsense." He smiled. "I cannot say how it cheers me to see the color returned to your cheeks."

She looked down. "Sir, you know very well that I was not ill."

"Well," he sighed. "Do not fret yourself, ma'am. I do not like to see you distressed over something so trivial."

Shaking her head, she gazed at him with a look of apology. "Captain, I have treated you infernally. I am terribly ashamed of myself."

"Now, we cannot have this," he told her seriously. "Ma'am, you are too fine a lady to treat any man badly. You have always been exceedingly kind, and, if I may say, you have often smiled at an old marine in a way that made him feel like a dashing young lad again."

A slight blush flooded her face and she looked away in embarrassment, for he was by no means old and was actually of an appropriate age her.

"Captain Aubrey says nothing of the reasons why you must travel so far alone in a gunship with so much protection," he continued very gently. "You _are_ troubled, it is evident. Do not let anything distress you more. I am your servant, ma'am, and only hope to lighten your days a bit, if I may."

Feeling even more wretched, she shook her head. "Sir, you are an excellent man," she sighed. "Whatever you say, I don't deserve it."

"Stuff and nonsense, ma'am." He caught up her hand, bowed elegantly, and pressed a kiss upon her knuckles.

His obliging, chivalrous manner humbled her. "I am honored to call you a friend."

Captain Howard again tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, he lead her to resume their stroll. "It may amuse you to know that my brother officers have sat down with me to explain how some sea creatures are sacred to sailors."

"They have?" she asked in surprise.

"Each one."

"You are all far too indulgent with me and my shortcomings," she admitted, both pleased and chagrined. "The plain truth is that I do not approve of the sport of shooting. To kill another creature for food or protection is one thing, but for vanity and entertainment is another."

At first, he frowned a little at her. "Well, many ladies are too delicate for such violent sports, you are certainly not the only one!" Now, he was smiling again. "I shall of course refrain from such things while you are on board, ma'am. It is easily done."

"Sir, you are kindness itself," she replied, wondering if the word _delicate_ had ever before been used to describe her. Everything was easy between them, and there was respect and esteem despite their differences.

The lady was heard to laugh aloud at something that the marine captain had said. The men went back to work and the officers drifted back to the quarterdeck. The wind was with them and Jamaica was but a few days away.


	19. Kingston Town

Amandine  
I don't know if I can help you, but Jack certainly loves the ladies! Let me know how I can help.

_Stephen and Pulling are great friends in the books. Here's one of my favorites, when Stephen calls him honey:  
_ He hurried down to Pullings' cabin and said 'Tom, pray attach this to the little  
packet I gave you, if God forbid you have to deliver it. And pray take great care  
of it for the now – never out of your pocket at all – it is a prodigious great jewel  
of a thing.'  
"I will keep it here in my fob,' said Pullings. 'But I am sure you will have it back  
before morning.'  
'I hope so, honey, I hope so indeed….'  
_The Letter of Marque_

_Our Rose is not perfect, but neither am I! Here is my personal objection to Mr. Howard. She only disarmed him; I would have shoved him overboard.  
_ The very shocking report of a musket in the silence cut him short. Darting a  
glance along the rail Stephen saw the Marine officer, still in his night-cap, with the  
smoking gun in his hands and a great fool's laugh upon his face. The whale's  
head plunged in a boil of water, his huge back arching and the tail coming clear,  
poised there above the surface for an instant of time before it vanished straight  
downwards.  
Stephen looked forward to keep his extreme anger from showing…  
_The Far Side of the World_

* * *

Kingston Town

Port Royal, Jamaica, had, during the Golden Age of Piracy, been a favorite port of Henry Morgan and many, many others. At that time, it was known as "the richest and wickedest city in the world", but in 1692, it was partially buried in the sea by an earthquake.

Kingston, which grew up nearby, was genteel in comparison but still a trifle rough at times, so when Rose Stirling told Jack that she intended to stay ashore at an inn during their two nights in port, he was understandably displeased. Stephen offered to escort her, for he had never visited the city and asked her to be his guide since she knew it so well. Jack would only agree if Stephen went armed and another of the officers was always nearby. Tom Pullings offered to give up his shore leave to go with them, which surprised no one.

They went ashore in the morning with several others who wanted to be quick about their business of purchasing fresh provisions and such so that they could then enjoy the many pleasures of the town. In fact, they were rowed ashore with the purser and Mr. Pullings, who had a hard day's work ahead but invited both of then to dine with him that evening when he would be finished with his duties. Stephen promised that at the time of arranging for their rooms, he would have the inn set aside a parlor for their dinner.

"I am going to take the doctor to Spanish Town, before the day grows too hot, to see that horrible statue of Lord Rodney," Rose told Tom with a knowing grin after they had settled on the time to meet that evening.

"Indeed?" laughed Tom. "I am sure that you will enjoy it, doctor."

In fact, Stephen felt slightly on the outside of their private joke, but he understood and enjoyed it once he had seen the statue. Admiral Rodney, the hero of the Battle of the Saints in 1782, was depicted as an emperor dressed in Roman robes, and he appreciated the satire.

After, he accompanied the lady to purchase her pearl buttons and a velvet hair ribbon. He made the appropriate remarks when she asked him if round or fresh water pearls would suit her chiffon gown and helped her to choose a new length of cloth to make herself another summer-weight everyday gown. He insisted on carrying her parcel as they meandered a bit in good company, with Rose sharing memories of time spent in the town during both her childhood and her adult life, but the day was growing oppressively hot. Soon, they sat down together for a light luncheon and a mug of chilled small ale, which refreshed them in the heat.

"It must be said that Lieutenant Pullings is neither a fool nor a landsman," he remarked lightly at an opportune moment.

She blushed and looked reproachfully at him. "Stephen, I would never expect _you_ to listen to the gossip of the fo'c'sle hands."

Her comment surprised him because he had not realized that she was aware of what was being said among the crew. "I do not. However, there is no denying what is written upon your faces every time you look at one another."

She colored furiously, dark red. "Well," she said, casting her eyes about in agony, as if she sought some escape from this interview.

Seeing how discomfited she was, Stephen felt sorry to have confronted her so bluntly and moved to make amends. "He is one of the finest men I have ever had the privilege to know," he said and meant it.

"And such a man is hardly meant for the likes of me," she said with sadness and a slight bitterness in her voice and her embarrassment abating.

"Why do you say that? He certainly knows of your past and does not object."

A self-mocking smile touched her lips. "Any link to me would be suicide to an officer's career. Richard was a merchant and it was hard enough for him. Poor Tom passed for lieutenant and had to wait years – years! – to be promoted. By the stars, doctor, a man and mariner of that quality! The navy suffers delusions."

"It is a terrible shame," he agreed. "The captain says it is because he was not born a gentleman and thus has no friends of influence."

"I believe it would depend on one's definition of a gentleman," she replied with a smile.

"Touché, my dear," he laughed. "Apparently one captain refused to take him as a lieutenant because of his low country accent. No, I am quite in agreement with you that the navy exhibits a shocking tendency to promote and show favor to men with family and connections rather than with ability and merit. Still, I cannot imagine how a lady as yourself would harm a man's career. I would think that you would enhance it, being such a seasoned sailor."

"I am convicted of piracy," she said low so as not to be overheard, but her strong emotions carried in her voice. "Eleven years is a long time for memory, but after this cruise, my past will be common knowledge."

Stephen paused. There was some truth in her words, but he wondered how much worse it could be for a man without connections.

During the hottest part of the day, they returned to the inn to rest and bathe before dinner. In the cooler evening air, they came down to the parlor to find Tom waiting for them. As was custom for shore-leave, he wore his formal uniform with the white lapels, breeches, silk stockings, and his medals. He was also freshly bathed and shaved, with his still-damp hair tied back neatly. "Well, ma'am, doctor," he greeted with his usual broad grin. "I hope your day was as pleasant as could be. And how did you find poor Admiral Lord Rodney?"

"I am glad to report that you were quite correct and I enjoyed it very well."

The three of them sat down together for their dinner, and after all their time at sea, it was a rare treat to have so many dishes with fresh meats, fruit, and vegetables. For his part, Stephen added only a little to the conversation, for he was occupied with observing them.

There was no question about the strong attraction that ran between them. Now, however, for the first time, he was able to see them together without the restraints set by society. Both valued and trusted him as a dear friend and hid nothing from him. Rose Stirling glittered with her own incandescence, and Tom Pullings lit up the room with his good humor. The common topics that they discussed, the lovely way they looked at each other and at Stephen, the extraordinary tender teasing way that they addressed each other – it confounded him a little. Physical desire he knew all too well, affection and attachment he recognized; however, this exquisite, crystal attachment between a man and a woman when all came together in harmony was strange to witness. It made him feel at once warm and beloved to be included in the glow, and yet alone and wretched to think he was on the outside looking in and he, Stephen Maturin, would never experience such a thing.

In all the years he had known Tom Pullings, his esteem and affection for the man had grown, though always in his mind would he remain impossibly young. In Rose, he saw a powerful spirit still unbroken by time and sorrow, and perhaps a chance to remain that way if she survived this adventure. He imagined them old, grown old, with years and ships and thousands of sea miles as well as children and grandchildren passed between them.

_I shall never know such a thing_, he told himself in self-pity. _There is no woman who will ever look at me in this way_.

At the moment, he felt a deep and abiding affection for both of them, but he still cursed them both for the happiness that he envied, and he knew he would never experience it, even for a fraction of a minute. But he loved them both with a fierceness that awed him, and he knew that his best gift was to leave them alone together with the knowledge that they had both time and privacy, which they did not have onboard the ship.

"Well, I hope I do not break up this merry party so early but I declare I can scarcely keep my eyes open!" he announced once they had been served with their dessert, a fine glass filled with delicate lemon ice. "Will you forgive me if I excuse myself and steal off to my bed?"

"Are you unwell?" asked Rose as a deep frown of concern darkened her face.

"No, I am fagged to death and only wish an early night. Tom, you'll see that Mrs. Stirling gets safely to her room?"

"Of course, doctor, do not worry on that score," replied the lieutenant, but he was also looking rather worried. "Can I not do something to aid you?"

"Shall I come sit with you?" Rose asked.

"By no means, my dear. I am in want of sleep is all. Enjoy your pudding. Mr. Jenkins says they serve fine ices here."

"Very well. Sleep well, my dear sir."

After he was gone and they had settled down with their coffee, they both looked at each other, frowning. "He didn't seem ill," said Rose thoughtfully. "And he enjoyed the heat today rather more than I expected."

"Did you walk far? Perhaps he is just not used to the exercise?"

"We did get about a good bit," she admitted. "Though he said not a word of complaint."

"You've pushed the poor doctor too far," he grinned. "All the way to Spanish Town and back, then round and round the shops of Kingston!"

"Had we walked to Spanish Town, I can't say we'd even be back yet," she laughed. "And we visited only one shop where we spent not over a half hour."

"Ah, well, then." His ingenuous face was truly anxious. "You do not think he was ill?"

"No, he looked as he always does, if not rather a bit better than normal."

"The tropical clime agrees with him. Well, perhaps he had a poor night's sleep last night. I imagine he'll be improved in the morning."

"I'm sure you are right. And he does seem to flourish more in the heat than in the cold. I suppose it is what one is used to. I never minded the heat, though I was born and raised in warm waters. What of you? Did you not find the heat of India stifling?"

"At first, it was difficult, for it's hot as blazes! But the sailing is sweet in many places and dangerous in other places and I quickly grew used to it."

"It seems easier for men of the south," she mused.

"I don't understand."

"You from Hampshire. Richard from Gloucestershire. It was only a little adjustment to the equatorial climates. Most Scotsmen, Irishmen, Norwegians suffer agonies when the temperature rises."

"Yes, I had noticed it as well, though there are many men from the south who do not endure heat very well." He poured himself a glass of the port, and looked at her questioningly. For sure, this was a strange night, and without any other society, he supposed that they would take their after dinner drinks together. She nodded, and he reached to pour her a little port. "What was Captain Stirling like?" he asked with sincere curiosity as he recorked the bottle.

"What was he like? Well… he was incredibly brave and strong of character, which impressed me from the moment I first saw him. I have always held Bristol merchants in contempt, as you probably do, but he was a captain in his own right was well as an owner. He held no greed and certainly had no aim to be a wealthy man."

Sipping the sweet port, she got up from her chair. "No, don't bother," she told him when he would have risen as well. Slowly, she paced over to gaze out the open window into the darkened courtyard garden. "In a way, he was very much like Captain Aubrey – tall and strongly built, but leaner. Darker, too, with eyes as black as pitch. Very cheerful but a strict captain who allowed no nonsense from the hands. He had a bit of a temper and was occasionally overfond of wine, but these are not great faults in a man. He had a short memory when it came to offense and was quick to forgive and forget. He was also able to overcome his prejudice of the female sex and trust me with the sailing of the ship."

He nodded slowly. "I would like to have known him."

"I daresay you would have liked each other very much." She turned from the window and smiled wistfully.

"You must miss him something sore."

"I do." Tears filled her eyes. "Some days worse than others."

"Oh – blast!" He got up and came over to her. "Forgive me, please. Will I forever be saying the wrong thing?"

"It wasn't the wrong thing at all." She was smiling despite the tears. "It was very right. It is good to talk of him. For four years, people have been afraid to mention him for fear of a few tears."

"I am not so very brave when dealing with tears." He looked crestfallen. "Please don't weep. I would like to hear more about Captain Stirling, but I don't think I could bear your tears."

"They are honest things," she assured him, brushing at her eyes and still smiling.

"Even the false ones that some women employ have ever moved me." He heaved a great sigh of relief now that she was dry-eyed. "I much prefer seeing you up on the deck of the ship, shining like there was all the stars in creation inside you."

The smile faded and her lips parted slightly. He had spoken in his usual straightforward manner and not with the practiced flattery of some of the others. "Tom," she said in a soft voice. "I think that may be the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever said to me."

The unexpected emotion in her voice caught him unawares. As he gazed down into her eyes, her velvety dark eyes, his pulse began to race. She stood looking frankly at him with a warm expression that any man would recognize, and the restraint that he had maintained until now crumbled to dust. For she smiled beatifically, looking at him with warmth and affection, shining in the way he had described. Very lightly he stroked the side of her face. She turned her head and pressed her cheek into his palm, closing her eyes. "My dear, pretty Rose," he murmured.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him again, and the tangle of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. This lady was in no need of comfort or compassion; rather, she looked at him with both love and the heat of desire in her eyes. He was not proof against a woman's seduction, and he had no defense against her.

Taking hold of her chin between his thumb and splayed fingers, he leaned to capture her mouth with a gentle kiss. Her hands pressed flat upon his chest and she kissed him back openmouthed. Since their last embrace, he had been longing to feel her in his arms again, so he let go of her chin, reached for her, and drew her up against him. The fingers of her one hand slipped under his coat, the others were trailing lightly up and down the back of his neck, and the tip of her tongue met his.

Realizing with alarm that he would not be able to stop if this continued for another moment, he broke off the kiss and gazed at her without the ability to disguise his hunger. She was wide-eyed and looked at him with real affection but also uncertainty and maybe a little fear, but he could not tell for sure. Disengaging himself from her, he turned away towards the window and let the cool evening breeze refresh him a little. He needed to regain some control of himself.

There was silence, and she was watching him but he knew not what to say or how to say it. "Tom, I do not play idly with your affections," she told him in her low voice.

"I know that," he admitted, hardly able to trust his voice and not looking at her. "I am too tempted to forget I am a gentleman. That is all."

There was silence for what seemed like a long time. A little sound, a little movement, and her hand took hold of his and she tugged, leading him from the parlor. A wild thrill shot through him as he went with her up the inn's shadowy staircase. Did she mean to lead him by the hand up to her room and seduce him there? There was no chance of resisting her; for sure, he felt almost like a schoolboy again, unable to speak coherent words or indeed to think coherent thoughts. Still, he went, following where his lady lead, and knowing that this was what was right.


	20. Time and Privacy

**Warning!  
**This chapter contains adult content and if there is any possibility of being upset or offended, skip it. There will certainly be a PG-rated recap of the most important events at the beginning of the next chapter.  
Both Miss Flossy and Lady Legrace have read this and judged that it's okay to post this here as is, so I'll go ahead with it.

Sorry to anyone who was annoyed that this left off at a delicate place. I could not for the life of me get the correct tone for this scene for days. Many thanks to Miss Flossy for supportive mentoring during my email whining about lack of inspiration and lambs (or kittens) who passed for men! And thanks to Lady Legrace to for mentoring as well.

I was looking for something to show Pullings in a passionate light, and the only thing I could come up with was when he shouted at Stephen during the mumps epidemic. Of course, mumps are pretty harmless in children, but in grown men, it can render them permanently impotent. Scary thing for anyone!  
"And as he was disentangling himself from the belaying-pins he happened  
to loop a fancy-line about his ankle and walk off with it until his old friend  
Tom Pullings bawled 'Stop playing with that fancy-line, and go below' with  
a ferocity that might have daunted Beelzebub."  
_The Ionian Mission_

* * *

Time and Privacy

Once up in her room with the door locked and the soft evening breezes wafting the floor length curtains, Tom Pullings was impatient to have her in his arms but also worried that he was perhaps pushing her a bit too fast. "My dearest, loveliest Rose," he said, taking both her hands and pressing a kiss first on one wrist, then the other. "You must know I have nothing to offer you. I am a mere lieutenant with not even ten guineas a month."

"Now you are merely hinting for compliments and want me to tell you what a fine-looking man you are and that a girl couldn't ask for more," she teased. "Know that I have no interest in ten guineas or a hundred thousand guineas. If I wanted, I could have all that and more. All I want is to feel safe and to feel loved. Can you offer me that?"

A little smile and he nodded. "With all my heart." Their gaze held, and she smiled as well, flushing gloriously and glittering like the stars to which he had earlier likened her.

"Now, sir." She began to unbutton his waistcoat, which seemed to him at that moment like an excellent idea. "I know very well how proud you are of your blue coat, but I am afraid I must ask you to take it off, at least for a little while."

For a moment, he just watched her hands as they moved down from one button to the next. "As my lady wishes," he said in a voice so husky that he had to clear his throat. She finished with the buttons and then moved back slightly and she stood watching with a smile as he shrugged his coat off and set it on the back of a chair.

As his waistcoat followed his coat and he began to unravel his neckcloth, she kicked off her shoes and reached up to the plain white buttons on the front of her gown. Like other ladies who had no maid, she wore easy clothes that fastened in front, and he watched her almost mesmerized as her hands moved down the front of her gown. One by one, the buttons opened. He yanked his shirt over his head and off quickly so as not to miss a fraction of a second. Finally, she slipped the lavender cotton gown off her shoulders, and then down off her hips, and let it pool around her feet on the floor.

Underneath, she wore a simple cotton shift and he swallowed hard. The garment was fitted at the top and supported her bosom, and thus he could see how full and ripe her white breasts were and how her still-slim waist and rounded hips completed her softly voluptuous figure. As badly as he wanted to get his hands on her, he stood motionless, watching as hypnotically slowly she reached up to remove her hairpins. His eyes followed her every move, and she shook her head, sending a cascade of silky red hair down over her shoulders. For a second, he stopped breathing and fought the urge to rip off the cotton shift and ravish her.

Taking a step closer, she slid her hands up, brushing lightly over the fine dark hair that coated his chest, and he shuddered at the sensation. "Rose, you don't know how I want you."

"You will have to show me," she replied in a low, caressing tone, and another thrilled tremor ran through him.

Unable to contain himself for another instant, he seized her in his arms and, lifting her off her feet, carried her over to the high featherbed and tossed her down in the middle of it. Her first response was to gasp, but she began to giggle a little. He leapt up beside her kicked off each shoe onto the floor. "Now, my lady, shall I unwrap you from that pretty shift like some fair parcel?"

"Are you certain you can manage the buttons?" she asked, her eyes dancing with devilish brilliance.

There were tiny buttons on the front of it, and he felt far too clumsy and was afraid of breaking them off. Instead, he grasped the garment by the hem and dragged it up, baring her body to his eager eyes. Laughing and breathless, she helped him, sitting up, wriggling out of it, pulling it off over her head, then lying back down and flipping her hair over the pillows.

He did not know where to put his hands first and instead just devoured her with his eyes. She was very fit but with a soft, round body made for a man's pleasure. "My God, woman," he swore. "You are the fairest sight I have ever yet seen."

"Even after all those children," she laughed, but his words obviously pleased her greatly. At first she let him look his fill, then she reached out for him, drawing him to her with almost as much eagerness as his. Half on top of her, feeling her warm, soft flesh pressed against him, he kissed her, but hard this time, and hungrily. No protest did she make, nor did she surrender limply; rather, she kissed him back with a heat and a passion just as strong as his own.

With a groan, he shifted and struggled out of his breeches and silk stockings, not caring where they fell. Leaning his weight on one elbow, he reached his other hand to her soft, full breasts as gently as he could manage. She sighed in pleasure, and he watched her flushed, sweet face as she closed her eyes.

Paramount in his mind was to see that she enjoyed it. Without restraint, he knew he could selfishly abandon himself in the moment, but that was not what he wanted. _Slowly and gently_, he told himself. Her arms reached for him and pulled his head down a little to bring his mouth down to her breasts, so he lowered his head to lick and suckle at her nipples. She gasped, cried out, and squirmed. "Oh, Tom!"

Again, he shifted till he knelt above her. With both hands, he caressed her perfect breasts and suckled at one then the other, listening to her little moans to judge what she liked. "Do I please you, my sweet?" he asked in her ear.

"Yes, yes," she gasped, then took hold of one of his hands and guided it down over her belly to her thighs and then in between to stroke her petal-soft flesh there. "Like that." She guided his fingers to show him where and how she liked to be touched.

When he had gained the rhythm and stroked her the way she showed him, she let go of his hand and he continued on his own. Now, she was squirming back and forth and uttering fantastic little cries that aroused him more and more. "Don't stop," she begged.

"Mmmm, never," he murmured as he leaned again to capture a nipple in his mouth. Instinctively, he wanted her now, he ached to climb on top of her and take her, but she wanted this, and this was what he would give her, for as long as she wanted.

Time had ceased and he rubbed her, stroked her, made love to her with as much gentleness as he possessed. Her ever-increasing arousal was evident, and he knew she would soon reach her climax. The thought both thrilled and excited him: he wanted to please her but he also relished the control he had over her, knowing that it was his ministrations that were going to give her the ultimate release.

Finally, she opened her eyes which were hugely dilated. "Stop, stop," she gasped.

Immediately, he stopped and sat up to look at her. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked worriedly, cursing himself for his rough, callused hands.

"No, no. I want to get on top of you. Lie back now," she asked him urgently in a husky voice.

For a second, he stared at her, not actually comprehending what she had said. On top of him?

She sat up and pushed him back, and he finally realized what she wanted. He grinned at her as she looked down at him with her hair covering her like a curtain. Her hands ran over his chest, and then she swung one leg over his waist and sat astride him. He reached to help her as she grasped his swollen shaft and pushed herself down atop him. With a deep sigh, her soft flesh enveloped him and she leaned forward to kiss him. Deeply, with his tongue caressing hers, he kissed her back. The lady was far more experienced than he had realized, he knew as she raised her head and took a deep breath after the kiss.

His hands closed gently around her breasts and she propped her left hand against his shoulder for balance as her other hand moved down to rub herself. Craning his neck, he was able to take her nipples in his mouth, one and then the other, and he teased the hard nubbins with his callused fingers. Rose was flushed, gasping and wiggling, and the sensation for him was immensely exciting, both the sight of her in the unselfconscious throes of passion, the gorgeous little sounds of pleasure she made, the soft, warm scent of her, the ripe breasts in his hands, and the feel of her moist flesh around him.

In this position, he could hold out for a long time, so he did nothing to rush her. In fact, he wanted so much to see her find pleasure that he pushed away his own aching need and concentrated on her. Patiently, he caressed her, nibbling and squeezing. Her breaths were coming fasts, in little gasps, and then she stopped breathing altogether, and he knew that she was on the brink.

A feral cry of pleasure welled up in her throat and she threw her head back. Grasping her firmly by the hips, he drove up into her and she responded with another lovely cry of pure pleasure. Holding firmly to his shoulders, she rode him, her body slithering like a serpent. "Yes," she gasped. "Oh, Tom…"

Her eyes opened and focused on him, gazing into his face with pure love and bliss. She was beautiful, too beautiful by far, and precious beyond all things. Her movements slowed a little, her shudders became further apart.

Clasping her tightly in his arms, Tom held her against his chest, and without separating where they were joined, swiftly flipped her onto her back. The lady was completely disoriented and gasped in surprise, but then looked up at him with a sweet smile. Now in control, he covered her mouth with his and began to thrust into her gently. Her fading climax eased back into a building one.

"Oh, gods! Tom! Faster!" she pleaded, arching up to him.

He was able to control himself long enough to watch her blessed face as he pleasured her. She was flushed, eyes closed, her lips parted and so inviting. Tense, trembling, on the verge of release, he held himself back, controlled himself, forced her towards the monumental climax that was building. On the razor's edge now, they felt the touch of the other's soul. Then, she whimpered, and her whole body convulsed as the second more powerful orgasm shook her. She wailed, a long keening cry of wild release as he took her as hard as he dared.

She opened her eyes, mindless with ecstasy. "Tom," she breathed, looking at him with love and passion and complete surrender. "Tom, my love."

He grinned down at her. "Do you love me?"

"Yes, by the stars!" She dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

"Say it, my sweet, tell me, please."

"I love you, Tom. Yes, yes, oh! Tom, I love you."

With a sound between a gasp and a growl seemingly torn from within him, he fell atop her and forgot all else as he abandoned all thought and knowledge in the supple, perfumed heat of her flesh and took her hard, rutting like an animal. _Rose_ was all he knew and all his mind could hold. Hardly even aware of what was occurring, he felt the moment of climax and cried out hoarsely as he emptied himself inside her. _My Rose_ was his only thought, his intoxicating female, his lover, his woman was the only thing that existed in the world, was all that mattered…

Like floating in a dream, he became aware again. Under him, she was breathing slowly, and he could feel her soft and warm. Her scent filled his senses, and her arms held him, gently stroking his back. It was a dream he had had before, more than once, but there was something about it this time that was different. He clung to the blessed dream, knowing that any minute he would have to get up for the morning watch.

From far away, he heard the sound of a sigh and felt her move. That wasn't part of the dream. No dream at all, he realized…

Tom's eyelids fluttered and he tried to speak. In that moment, he was so vulnerable, so purely himself, and her heart began to ache deeply. She eased him gently onto his side. He was not quite conscious, and she sat gazing upon him for a moment, then got up and moved about the room, putting out the lamps and cleaning herself up a bit.

The air was cool and when she came back to bed, she pulled the coverlet up over him before lying down next to him. Only partly aware of his surroundings, Tom felt the delightful warm, soft creature nesting against him. Both needing her and wanting to possess her, he wrapped his arms around her and shifted more comfortably. The brush of her lips against his face made him open his eyes in another little flutter. "Rose, I love you," he murmured, nearly inaudible. And then his slow, deep, even breaths signaled that he was asleep.

An emotional tightness constricted her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut as she fought tears. The dreaded days ahead had just become even more immensely complicated than they had been before. Safe, she was, though, safe here with him, at least for this night, safe and loved. Feeling his strong arms around her and the steady beat of his pulse, she lay awake trying to preserve the feeling.


	21. An Offer and a Promise

Miss Flossy, it was not I who made Pullings into the perfect man. O'Brian made him a sweet, kind, shy man and a perfect officer. I just made him a generous lover. ;-)

Legrace, I haven't decided what to do with the little boys yet, if anything. I don't know if the secrets revealed in this chapter will make things easier to understand or will just make it all more murky.

I'll stick on the quotations about Jack's "perfect lieutenant" at the end: there are a lot of them!

**

* * *

**

An Offer and a Promise

As with any sailor, Tom Pullings woke instantly and knew that it was early in the morning watch. The sun had not yet risen, but a predawn grayness filled the room with murky shadow. Rose slept fitted comfortably back against him with her shoulders against his chest and her hair strewn over both of them. He held her with one arm tossed over her, and she slept hugging his arm, holding it against her bosom like a child sleeping with a doll. Her grip was lax now, though, and he was easily able to slide his arm free.

He pushed the coverlet off her feet to examine a tattoo he had noticed near her left ankle. Even in the dim murkiness, he could see it was a rose. Beautiful work, it was a blooming red rose, a lovely little thing set just above her ankle, an inch or two. With a little chuckle, he wondered if her mother had been tattooed with a pretty lily blossom, but Rose yawned a little and turned on her back. Settling back beside her, he allowed his hand to trail up and down the length of her under the blanket. She giggled a little, still not fully awake and stretched luxuriously. "Good morning," he greeted, kissing her temple.

"It's still the middle of the night," she yawned. Again she laughed a little as he stroked her and made a sound of contentment in her throat like a cat's purr. It was enough of a signal for him to proceed, and soon they were twined together again, joined in a gentle ecstasy with none of the urgency of the night before.

Afterwards, as Rose lay against him, her tears brushed against his chest. "What is it, my sweet?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her. "Have I hurt you?" he asked in sudden horror.

"No." She was smiling languidly despite the wet eyes. "The feelings.... They're strong. It has been a long time…" She sighed a little. "They're happy tears."

"I'm glad." He brushed them away with his fingertips, kissed one of her eyelids and then the other before collecting her again in his arms. He held her against him and enjoyed the feel of her nestling against him more comfortably, and very shortly, she was asleep. He stroked her hair and practiced what he was going to say to her.

* * *

"I cannot believe we have forgotten about the poor doctor," Rose said as she sat on the richly upholstered bench before the glass, carefully securing her upswept coils of hair with the pins. "We must go directly to check on him though I feel in my heart that we shall find him quite well." 

"Selfish creatures we are to forget him," he said with a grin.

Catching sight of him in the mirror as he arranged his neckcloth, she grinned back. "You are incorrigible, sir!"

"I said once before that you provoke me to it!"

"Infamous!" she laughed as she finished with her hair and turned her head from side to side to check that all the hairpins were secure. "I am sure I do no such a thing, but if I do, well, then I am glad."

Nervously, he took in a deep breath. "Rose, before we go to find the doctor, let us speak a moment in secret."

"In secret?" She turned upon the bench to face him with a tiny frown of confusion.

Unable to relax, he began to pace and clasped his hands behind his back. "My dear Rose, you said last night that this is no game for you, and thus I say that it is the same for me. My intentions are honorable, to be sure, though I know that as I am now, I am not nearly worthy of you."

"Not worthy?" she repeated with her frown deepening, but he did not look at her. He hardly seemed to have heard her as he recited his piece.

"I do hope to make captain one day," he assured her. "Even then, I shall still be a lowly farmer's son who came over the bow into service, but when I am a captain, you need not be ashamed of me as a mere lieutenant."

"Ashamed? Of you?" she whispered, looking stricken.

"You know I have nothing to recommend me to you, save all what you see and know." He finally looked at her, and the expression on her face, appalled, disgusted, made him falter uncertainly. "Forgive me. I thought you... looked fond enough upon me. I will take you any day under the sun to church, if you agree to have me. Or would you rather I ask the captain?"

Still, she said nothing and now seemed to be regarding him in some kind of pained horror.

"I am dreadfully sorry to presume so much. I know a common sailor like me can never be worthy of a lady such as yourself. I thought that having a husband you liked and could rely on, even one as low and base as myself, might help you to settle more contently in life. I would certainly take you to sea with me if I could." He looked wretchedly at her. "And I should dearly like to know your boys. Perhaps have another one. And certainly have another little girl who mayhaps should heal your heart." He stopped speaking. In all his life, he had never felt so low and stupid, and terrible fear gnawed at him. "I have no idea how to offer marriage to a lady. If you will not have me, then please tell me now in plain words: it is the kindest thing you could do."

"My dear kind Tom," she said in a voice wavering with emotion. "You honor me too greatly and undervalue yourself. It is… just hard to talk of such happy things now with doom still handing over my head like the sword of Damocles. What lies ahead will be bad, worse than what has gone before."

Some hope returned. Although he waited, she said nothing further. "Is that all?" he asked. "You have no objections to me, to my person, my birth?"

"No, of course not." She gazed at him with deep, warm affection and the exquisite light of love. "My mother once told me that she was introduced to a man who was a legitimate child of a king and a queen and thus held the title of prince. She found that his title was in name only, for his behavior was as the most common sewer rat. I would rather have a good man whose words and deeds were princely than a prince whose words and deeds were common."

"Then have me," he said softly.

Tenderness misted her eyes; a smile trembled on her lips. "By the Goddess, no other man could make me as happy as you, yet there is so much you don't know about me and my life. It would be a poor match for you: I could never make a proper wife for an officer. Besides, you should have a fresh young girl who can keep house and give you plenty of children."

These words shocked and hurt him, for at first he thought it must be a poor attempt at a joke at his expense. He knew, though, that she would not tease him about this, she was not cruel. "You can't be serious," he said.

Gravely she looked at him. "I have told you and the captain and doctor the things in my life that you needed to know for this mission, but there is more. For instance, I have a brother. Few others know this."

The news was a great surprise to him. "Indeed? Is he a pirate? Not aboard the _Walrus_?"

"No, he is neither. He is someone whom you know and have said you respect." She sighed heavily. "Please understand that what I am going to tell you now can never be repeated to anyone. A man's life and career could be ruined."

"Upon my honor, I shall not speak of it."

"David Hawkes, Captain Hawkes is my brother, my full brother. Very few people know of it."

Her _brother_? The news confounded him, for it was an open secret that Hawkes was Admiral Bellows's illegitimate son. Such a thing was not held against a man, especially such a prime seaman and inspiring leader. In fact, when he had heard that young Christopher Stirling had been sent to his ship, Tom had told Rose that he liked and admired Hawkes quite a bit. The man had unparalleled nerve and had racked up success after success over the years despite a tendency to overlook both orders and laws time after time. It was said that he had the devil's own luck, but Tom did no believe in luck and knew that the difference between a good captain and a great one was the ability to think on his feet and be decisive. Hawkes was a brilliant man and people couldn't help being drawn to him. "I don't understand. Is Admiral Bellows your father as well?"

"No, we are both children of John Flint, you see. You can imagine how it would ruin his career if it were known! No, the story that he is Admiral Bellows's son is not true, but it serves a purpose."

"Hawkes is Flint's son?" he asked slowly. Like all seafaring men, he afforded a special disgust for pirates though he had only actually come across them in the South China Sea. Flint, however, had been another breed entirely, and despite his lawless ways, even honest seamen admired his successes, his style and flair, his wholly damn-you-all-I-shall-do-as-I-please attitude. "How did he come to be a captain in the Royal Navy?"

"As young men, my father and Bellows were friends, shipmates, and brothers-in-arms," she explained. "Until they quarreled over a lady."

"Your mother?"

"Yes. Well, I don't need to tell you how that turned out, but when she passed on, my father sent us both to him and Mrs. Bellows to be raised honestly. Thus, Theo Bellows is like our brother as well."

Her elder boy, he knew, was with Commodore Theodore Bellows, son of the admiral, on the _Coventry,_ a 74-gun ship of the line now somewhere in the Pacific. Although he knew neither the admiral nor the commodore, what he did know of them impressed him.

"My dear lady, how came you to live among pirates while your brother became an officer in the Royal Navy?" he asked in amazement.

"When I was very young, I tried living there as a lady, and it was pleasant for a while, for I loved Admiral and Mrs. Bellows very dearly. But I missed the sea too acutely and could not go to the Navy, so I ran away and back to Savannah. My father was terribly angry, but my mother always said that a short merry life was better than a long miserable one, and when I reminded him of it, he said not a word and let me stay."

Slowly, Tom moved to sit down in one of the chairs. There _was_ much he did not know, but in the end, it would make no difference. From the beginning, he had been deeply sorry for her. The poor lady had lived an impossible life. Who could go back to living the life of a landsman after being born and bred to the sea? And not merely a landsman, a lady within the confines of genteel salons and drawing rooms, or a widow with wee children to think of? And this horror she was living, a death sentence and her children sent away.

Over the course of their friendship, she had often talked of life aboard her husband's ship the _Calypso_ and of the challenges and hilarity of raising two clever little boys. Conversely, she had said little about the time she had spent after Captain Stirling's death, and he had not asked. He wondered sometimes how it had been. Had she really been forced to stay ashore all that time? It would be like trying to grow a potted plant in a closet, a sickly half-existence. The few times she had mentioned her life to them, her voice had echoed bitterness. No family, no husband, not even the parish church to support her, pagan that she was. Despite his deep pity for her, he had to grin. How like old Flint she was in some ways! Not that the devil-take-you attitude would have made her life any easier, but he admired it greatly, and mixed with her womanly softness and sweetness, he fierce spirit made him love her helplessly.

"There is nothing in your past that can change my mind, known or unknown," he said to her. "I will not change my mind, and my offer is genuine, if you will have me. As for the rest, well, no one knows how things will turn out in the end, and we need at least come to some understanding between us today. I cannot in good conscience take you back to the ship without that, at least."

Their eyes met, and her expression was sweet and warm, but she gave him no answer. It emboldened him a little, and he got up and went down on one knee to her.

"Give me your promise today, my sweet. Say that when this business is over and settled that you will be mine."

Warm and smiling though she was, she still seemed to be tinged with sadness. "The gods know what is going to happen, but I will give you my promise now, at least."

His face lit as if by a thousand candles. "My lovely, darling Rose," he murmured, then clasped her tightly in his arms. She hugged him, laughing, and let him kiss her.

* * *

_Mr Baldrick's report to the new Captain Aubrey.  
_'…The master's mates, Pullings and young Mowett, can be trusted with a watch: Pullings passed for a lieutenant years ago, but he has never been made….'  
_**Master and Commander**_

_Just another disappointment.  
_Mr Dalziel was one of the disappointments of Malta: everybody aboard had hoped that Thomas Pullings would be confirmed lieutenant, but the admiral had sent down his own nominee, a cousin. Mr Dalziel of Auchterbothie and Sodds. He had softened it with a private note promising to 'keep Mr Pullings in mind and to make particular mention of him to the Admiralty', but there it was – Pullings remained a master's mate. He was not 'made' – the first spot on their victory. Mr Dalziel felt, it and he was particularly conciliatory; though, indeed, he had very little need to be, for Pullings was the most unassuming creature on earth, painfully diffident anywhere except on the enemy's deck.  
_**Master and Commander**_

_No promotion, no ship, no money, walking twenty miles, no food…Tom Pullings has no choice but to go into the merchant service.  
_'How do you come to be here, Pullings, in all your glory?'

'Why, sir, I could not get a ship an they would not confirm me in my rank. "No white lapels for you, Pullings, old cock," they said. "We've got too many coves like you by half."'

'What a damned shame!' cried Jack, who had seen Pullings in action and who knew that the Navy did not and indeed could not possibly have too many coves like him.

'So, I tried for midshipman again, but none of my old captains had a ship themselves; or if they had – and the Honroable Berkely had – no vacancy. I took your letter to Captain Seymour – Amethyst, refitting in Hamoaze. Old Cozzens gave me a lift as far as the Vizes. Captain Seymour received me very polite when I said I was from you, most obliging: nothing starchy or touch-me-not about him, sir. But he scratched his head and damned his wig when he opened the letter and read it. He said he would have blessed the day he could have obliged you, particularly with such advantage to himself, which was the civilest thing I ever heard – turned so neat – but that it was not in his power. He lead me to the gun-room and to the mids' berth himself to prove he could not take another young gentleman on to his quarterdeck. He was so earnest to be believed, though in course I credited him the moment he opened his mouth, that he desired me to count their chests. Then he gave me a thunderous good dinner in his cabin just him and me – I needed it, sir, for I'd walked the last twenty miles – and after the pudding we went over your action in the Sophie: he knew every-thing, except quite how the wind had veered, and he made me tel just where I had been from the first gun to the last. Then, "damn my eyes," says he, "I cannot let one of Captain Aubrey's officers rot on shore without trying to stretch the little interest I have," and he wrote me one letter for Mr Adams at the Admirality and another for Mr Bowles, a great man at East India House.'  
_**Post Captain**_

_Tom finally gets promotion to lieutenant.  
_'A gentleman to see you, sir,' said the waiter. 'A lieutenant.'

'A lieutenant?' said Stephen; and after a pause, 'Desire him to walk up.'

A thundering on the stairs, as though someone had released a bull; the door burst inwards, trembling, and Pullings appeared, lighting up the room with his happiness and his new blue coat. 'I'm made, sir,' he cried, seizing Stephen's hand. 'Made at last! My commission came down with the mail. Oh, wish me joy!'

'Why, so I do,' Said Stephen, wincing in that iron grip, 'if more joy you can contain – if more felicity will not make your cup overflow. Have you been drinking, Lieutenant Pullings? Pray, sit in a chair like a rational being, and do not spring about the room.'

'Oh, say it again, sir,' said the lieutenant, sitting and gazing at Stephen with pure love beaming from his face. 'Not a drop.'  
**_Post Captain_**

_And the celebratory feast.  
_Stephen remained perfectly mute in some dark study of his own, and it was not until they were coming in to the landing-stage that the sight of Pullings waiting for him lighted some cheerfulness in Jack's mind. The young man was standing there with his parents and an astonishingly pretty girl, a sweet little pink creature in lace mittens with immense blue eyes and an expression of grave alarm. 'I should like to take her home and keep her as a pet,' thought Jack, looking down at her with great benevolence.

The elder Mr Pullings was a farmer in a small way on the skirts of the New Forest, and he had brought a couple of sucking-pigs, a great deal of the King's game, and a pie that was obliged to be accommodated with a table of its own, while the inn provided the turtle soup, the wine and the fish. The other guests were junior lieutenants and master's mates; and to begin with the feast was stiffer and more funereal than might have been wished; Mr Pullings was too shy to see or hear, and once he had delivered his piece about their sense of Captain Aubrey's kindness to their Tom in a burring undertone whose drift Jack seized only half-way through, he set himself to his bottle with a dreadful silent perseverance. However, the young men were all sharp-set, for this was well past their dinner-hour, and presently the huge amounts of food they ate engendered talk. After a while there was a steady hum, the sound of laughter, general merriment, and Jack could relax and give his attention to Mrs Pullings's low, confidential account of her anxiety when Tom ran away to sea 'with no change of linen, nothing to shift into – not even so much as his good woolen stockings'.

'Truffles!' cried Stephen, deep in the monumental pie, Mrs Pullings's particular dish, her masterpiece (young hen pheasants, boned, stuffed tight with truffles, in a jelly of their own life's blood, Madeira and calves' foot). 'Truffles! My dear madam, where did you find these princely truffles?' – holding one up on his fork.

'The stuffing, sir? We call 'em yearth-grobbets; and Pullings has a little old spayed sow turns 'em up by the score along the edge of the forest.'  
_**Post Captain**_

_A right tartar. Not.  
_…and for the first time Stephen saw all the Polychrest's officers together – all except for Pullings, who had the watch, and who was walking the quarterdeck with his hands behind his back, pacing in as close an imitation of Captain Aubrey as his form could manage, and remembering, every now and then, to look stern, devilish, as like a right tartar as possible, in spite of his bubbling happiness.  
_**Post Captain**_

_O'Brian's description.  
_A thundering double knock below; Bonden vanished. Powerful sea-going voices on the stairs – a booming remark about the 'oakum-topped piece' which could only refer to Cecilia and her much-teased yellow hair – and Mr Pullings made his appearance, a tall, kind-looking, loose-limbed young man, a follower of Jack Aubrey's, as far as so unfortunate a captain could be said to have followers.  
_**H.M.S. Surprise**_

_Tom was married long before Jack  
_'…I shall have the choice of one or two officers, for sure. Shall you come, Pullings?'

'Why, in course, sir,' – surprised.

'Mrs Pullings no objection? No – eh?'

'Mrs Pullings will pipe he eye, I dare say; but then presently she will brighten up. And I dare say she will be main pleased to see me back again at the end of the commission; more pleased that now is, maybe. I get sadly underfoot, among the brooms and pans. It ain't like aboard ship, sir, the marriage-state.'

'Ain't it, Pullings?' said Jack looking at him wistfully.  
_**H.M.S. Surprise**_

_After Stephen's miraculous rescue.  
_…After a moment he said, 'Come, you must go below and to bed. M'Alister shall physic you. Mr M'Alister, pray take Dr Maturin below – '

'Let me carry you, sir,' said Pullings. 'I will give you a hand,' said Hervey. The whole quarterdeck and the greater part of the ship's company were gazing at the resuscitated Doctor, his older shipmates with plain delight, the others with heavy wonder: Pullings went so far as to push between the captain and the surgeon and to seize him by the arm.  
_**H.M.S. Surprise**_

_Jack's letter to Sophie.  
_What a capital fellow Tom Pullings is! He worked like a black, driving the hands day and night; and then when the Admiral sent this Mr Stourton to be first lieutenant over poor Pullings's head (all the labour of refitting being over), not a word of complaint, nor a hint of being ill-used. It was heavy work, as heavy as I can remember, and the boatswain being sick, even more fell to his share: I do not believe he went out of the ship above once, saying in his cheerful way 'that he knew Bombay – had often been there before – it was no more than Gosport to him'.  
_**H.M.S. Surprise**_

_Surprise meeting. This makes me laugh every time I read it but really reflects the friendship between Stephen Maturin and Tom Pullings..  
_He had not gone a hundred yards before a voice behind him called out, 'Doctor! Doctor!'

'Not again?' he muttered angrily, walking faster among the screw-pines and drawing his head down between his shoulders. But he was pursued, run down: and in his overtaker he instantly recognized the tall, lank, and still very boyish form of Thomas Pullings, a shipmate from his first day at sea. 'Thomas Pullings,' he cried, with a look of real pleasure replacing the first malignant glare. 'Lieutenant Pullings, upon my word and honor. How do you do, sir?'

They shook hands, and having inqured tenderly after the Doctor's health and the Commodore's, Pullings said, 'I remember you was the first that ever called me Lieutenant P, sir, back in dear old Pompey. Well, now if you choose to tip it the most uncommon civil, you could say Captain.'

'You do not tell me so? And are you indeed a captain already?'

'Not by land, sir; I am not Captain P by land. But at sea I am the captain of the Groper transport. You can see her from here, if you stand from behind the tree. Hey, you, the lobster there,' he called to an intervening soldier, 'your dad worn't no glazier. We can't see through you. There, sir: the brig just beyond the snow. She's only a transport, but did you ever see such lovely lines?'

Stephen had seen just such lines in a Dutch herring-buss, but he did not mention the fact, saying no more than 'Elegant, elegant.'

When her captain had gloated over the squat, thick object for a while he said, 'She's my first command, sir. A wonderful brig on a bowline; and she draws so amazing little water, she can run up the smallest creek. Will you honor us with a visit?'

'I should be very happy, Captain,' said Stephen.  
_**The Mauritius Command**_

_Stephen's musings  
_The English, Stephen knew – and most of those sitting round the table were Englishmen – were extremely sensitive to social difference; he was conscious of a sets of ears acutely tuned to minute differences of intonation, and he was particularly pleased to hear Pullings' fine southern burr: surely it argued a steady though wholly unaggressive self-confidence, a particular kind of strength. He contemplated Pullings as the first lieutenant stood there carving the round of beef, and it occurred to him that he had been singularly unobservant. He had known Pullings so long, from the time when Pullings had been a leggy master's mate, that Pullings seemed endowed with perpetual youth: Stephen had not seen maturity come down on him. To be sure, in company with Jack, the patron he loved and admired, Pullings still seemed very young: but here, in his own wardroom, he surprised Stephen with his size and his easy authority. Clearly he had left his youth in Hampshire, perhaps quite a long time ago: he was on his way to becoming one of those strong, eminently valuable lower-deck commanders in the line of Cook or Bowen; and until now Stephen had never noticed it.  
_**Desolation Island**_

_After Tom's terrible wound.  
_Dr Maturin too was fond of Thomas Pullings: like Captain Aubrey he had known him as a midshipman, master's mate and lieutenant; he esteemed him highly and had sewn back his nose and forehead with even more than his usual care, sitting by his cot night after night during his days of fever.  
_**Treason's Harbour**_

_The crew's regards for the first officer. (He was "captain" – commander – but had no ship so he came on the cruise as a volunteer).  
_Jack reflected for a moment upon the force of the breeze, the current, the bearing of the packet, and said 'Let the hands go to breakfast, and then we will turn to. If she is what I think she is, and if we catch her, you shall take her home.'

'Thank you, sir' said Pullings, his face a great grin. From the professional point of view nothing could suit him better. There would not be the glory of a battle – the packet's armament could not possibly compete with the frigate's and would certainly not come into action – but that did not signify, since the glory always went to the credit of the captain and the first lieutenant: for a volunteer, bringing in a valuable recaptured prize would be a more evident, noteworthy testimony of his zeal, and of his good luck too, by no means a negligible quality when it came to employment….

…And though it might seem that nothing could add to the combined effect of the hunting instinct and the very strong desire of something for nothing, in this case there was also a hearty wish to do well by Captain Pullings: for Jack's promise had of course been overheard. He was very much liked aboard, and with the extra spur the men flung themselves into their work with an even greater zeal….  
_**The Far Side of the World**_

_Stephen's letter to Diana. (Poor Tom lost his looks with that horribly disfiguring wound.)  
_Tom Pullings and West, whose nose mortified on the outward voyage, are even less lovely than I am: they are treated with the same friendliness.  
_**The Truelove**_


	22. To Cut a Rose

Bean02, to tell you the truth, I have no idea how it's going to end up. I have an idea of what will happen when they get to the island, but after that it gets very vague. So, anything is possible! I just beta-read something incredibly sad yesterday and it made me cry. I didn't like it at all!  
I actually wouldn't mind hearing what people think should happen. I certainly never would have set Rose Flint Stirling up as a possible romantic match for Tom Pullings unless Lady Legrace had made an excellent case for it!  
Cheers, and enjoy – this second scene was the most fun to write in this whole story so far!

**

* * *

**

To Cut a Rose

The luncheon dishes were being cleared away, and Stephen sat shaking his head in amazement at the lieutenant's appetite. It always astonished him that someone with the voracious appetite of a wolf could remain thin. Having missed breakfast, and it being rather late for luncheon, both Rose and Tom had been excessively hungry, and even the excitement over the joyous news that Rose had accepted his proposal had not dampened the man's appetite. She, however, had not seemed so completely over the moon about their engagement, but she smiled and said nothing, just letting Tom's enjoy the moment. In fact, she had seemed shocked that he had spoken of it at all, and Stephen guessed that she was still reluctant to take the chance of ruining his career.

"My dear," Stephen said to Rose in a even, conversational tone. "With a casual air, I should like you to gaze at someone, but so that he knows not of any interest in him."

"Whom do you mean?"

"There is a fellow across the street, in the doorway beside the tailor's shop. Dirty green coat, brown hat. Cast your eye upon him and tell me if you recognize him."

As directed, she allowed her gaze to sweep casually over the street and fixed only for a moment on the man of whom he had spoken. "I have not seen him before," she assured him.

"Curious. He was outside the inn this morning and he followed us here."

"Doctor, why did you say nothing of this before?" asked Tom with a worried frown.

"Mr. Pullings, I pray you, keep your countenance," he said blandly, with a smile. "We have time and intelligence on our side if we keep our heads."

"I shall take Mrs. Stirling back to the ship directly," the lieutenant replied quite calmly.

"That would be best. And I shall see where this dirty fellow leads me."

"No," said Rose, looking stricken. "Stephen, I cannot let you put yourself in such danger."

"My dear Rose," he said with such a sweet smile that he seemed almost handsome. "The danger is to you, and to Mr. Pullings, who will protect you with his life, I am sure. I am a mere scrap and will easily fade into the background once we are parted. Fear not for me but rather for yourself."

"The doctor is right," sighed Tom. "He is in no danger. Come along, now, and I shall take you back to the ship.'

"Send a man to fetch me from the inn this evening," said Stephen. "I shall have the girl there pack up your things, my dear."

"I shall be in a fright for you until you return," she said quite seriously.

Stephen began to chuckle; when Tom echoed her sentiments, he shook his head at them. "What possible harm could befall me? I am no one and indeed know nothing of value. The fact of the matter is that you have the dangerous errand, Tom, to take this lady back to the ship where she will be safe."

"And I shall do so right away."

"My advice to you is to walk briskly but without any indication of hurrying, like two lovers on their way to an assignation. You are engaged, after all, I daresay you will be able to hide your fears and smile at one another." They both colored a little, but he stood up, and so did they. "Let us not waste another moment."

Rose grasped both of his hands in hers. "My dear sir, you must take no risks on any account."

"No, indeed," echoed Tom.

For a moment he stood regarding them, these two separate beings, so similar and yet so different. Both were creatures of the sea: true as the tide, strong and free as the swells and waves. Rose was also a being of fire and passion, obviously inherited from both her wild and unafraid dam and sire. Tom, on the other hand, was bred of the earth: powerful, steady, dependable, honest. How much easier life might be like that, like one of them: free, joyful, and little affected by man or nature.

"I give you my word that I will not, and we shall share a glass of port this night when I come aboard."

Reluctantly, they took their leave of him. As he watched from the shop's window, Rose's hand slipped into Tom's and they walked together, clasping hands, going towards the quay. Stephen was glad to see that they hid their worries and were able to appear as happy lovers as they went, though not quite as lighthearted as he would have liked

The man in the green coat followed, and after waiting several minutes, Stephen in turn followed him.

* * *

Since the captain had gone ashore to dine with friends, the officers left, Pullings, Howard, and Allen, were more than pleased to beg Mrs. Stirling to join their meal in the gunroom that evening. The exotic fresh fare was prepared with skill by the gunroom's cook, and with some fine wine that the lady had gifted them in Savannah, they were a small but merry party. 

Captain Howard was not a fool and could perceive easily enough the currents running between Lieutenant Pullings and Mrs. Stirling. Still, there was some quite serious danger in the air, for the Royal Marines had been set to guard the deck since Mr. Pullings had returned unexpectedly early: eight men with loaded rifles and bayonets fixed. It was unheard of in a friendly port, but in the captain's absence, the lieutenant was in command and he impressed the serious nature of the threat with gravity that was highly unusual for him.

Their dinner was an intimate success. With a little wine and the feeling of familiar safety, with all those armed men, Captain Howard noticed that the lady was able to relax quite a bit after the gloomy worry of the afternoon. Now, she glowed and seemed to encompass the whole room. He grinned to see the way that she and Pullings looked at each other. _May innocents be protected from such looks!_ he told himself with a glance at Allen, who was grinning broadly as well.

Basking in the brilliance, Mr. Allen told his entertaining sea yarns with great aplomb. Mrs. Stirling clapped, pressed his hand, and begged to hear another. There were few things she enjoyed hearing about more than whales, she told him. Mr. Howard smiled and shook his head. Poor Allen had had only a moderate amount of wine but was drunk on the magnificent sweet joy and attention.

"Gentlemen, you are the first, after the doctor, to share in our happy news," Pullings began with a fond glance at the lady.

"Indeed!" said Allen, setting down his glass with a thump.

"Yes, Mr. Stirling has done me the honor of accepting my offer of marriage," he went on, grinning at both of them.

"How wonderful!" enthused Howard, though he saw that the lady's smile did not reflect the boundless happiness that a newly engaged woman might be expected to feel.

"I'll be damned! Mr. Pullings!" cried Allen, reaching to shake his hand enthusiastically. "Why, you sly dog! I wish you joy! Ma'am, what news! What momentous news!"

Howard leaned to refill their glasses. "Let us drink to your health, Mrs. Stirling, and a long and happy marriage! And congratulations, Tom." He too shook the lieutenant heartily by the hand, and beaming Mr. Allen clasped the lady's hand much more gently.

"Boarders!" came a loud shout from the deck as they drank their toast. "Arm yourself! Repel boarders!"

Not even a second's hesitation: the three officers leapt up and snatched up swords and pistols from their places on the walls. Gunfire sounded from above and shouts as well as running feet.

"They've come for you, no doubt," Pullings said to Mrs. Stirling, grasping her by the shoulder. "You are to stay in your cabin till one of us comes for you, d'you hear?"

"Tom, be careful," she managed, looking ghastly pale.

He kissed her mouth then let her go. "Get hidden, now."

Once up the companionway, Howard was shocked at how many of them there were. There seemed to be fighting everywhere, and the shadows cast from the lanterns were terrifying silhouettes. He went to the right, aft, with Allen, and Pullings went left, forward.

Quickly, Howard discharged one of his pistols, hitting one of the boarders in the chest: a fatal wound. The next man met the same end, and he was able to take the time to glance around for his next target as he unslung his riflle. Shouldering it, he took aim at one of the brigands at the capstan and hit him in the shoulder. His second shot finished the blackguard.

Men were battling and more were clambering over the sides. When he was out of ammunition, Howard drew his sword to join the hand combat. Some of the forecastle lads were fighting with cutlasses, and the battle seemed even, or rather slightly in the favor of the boarders. Drawing out his dagger as well, he fought harder. They had to turn the tide!

As he finished one opponent and turned to look for another, he felt both angry and afraid when saw Mrs. Stirling appear up the companionway. What was that woman up to? These criminals were here for her, Pullings had said!

Before another thought could materialize, he saw her raise a pistol, aim, and take out one of the brigands with a shot to the head. Right between the eyes! It was a shot that he forbade his sharpshooters from taking unless they were absolutely certain of their target, for a shot to the head was too easy to miss. One shift and the ball would miss its mark. No, he instructed his Marines to always aim for the chest, if they could. Recocking, she took careful aim and shot another man right between the eyes, then tossed that pistol down and drew out another, primed and loaded.

At that point, he was forced to turn his attention to one of the boarders close at hand. The brigands fought bravely but without real training, and there was not much of a contest, Howard knew. After parrying a few wild blows, he knew that he greatly outclassed his opponent. There was a cry of pain from Mr. Allen. Howard gritted his teeth, redoubled his efforts, and ran his opponent through with a great sword thrust.

When he turned, he saw that Allen had fallen and was clutching his left arm or shoulder where he lay while a powerfully built blackguard in striped trousers and a black waistcoat stood over him raising a cutlass to deliver the _coup de grace._ Knowing that he could not possibly be in time to save the man, Howard rushed forward, shouting, "No!" but pulled up suddenly when the villain was grabbed from behind. A hand seized his forehead and jerked his head back, a wicked blade flashed from left to right, and his throat opened with a gaping wound. In horrible fascination, Captain Howard watched as the big man collapsed backwards, and Mrs. Stirling, quickly becoming saturated with the brigand's lifeblood, toppled back with his much heavier weight on top of her.

In another instant, it was over: the men of the Surprise had wounded or killed the boarders. When he was sure that it was safe, Captain Howard rushed to Allen's side. "T'is naught but a scratch," the master assured him, but he was pale and his breathing was unsteady.

"Mr. Allen." Breathless, grieved, Mrs. Stirling crouched beside them. "Where are you hurt?"

"Just a sword slash on the arm. Nothing serious." He blinked at her and squinted.

"My dear sir, we shall have the doctor here presently." She looked at him with concern so incongruous to the rest of her appearance now. From her left eye downwards, her face was coated with a triangle of dark blood, and her lavender frock was soaked and ruined with the man's blood. She resembled some wild island warrior in warpaint. "The men shall take you below and bind your wound until the doctor is able to stitch you up. I shall attend you presently."

"No need to fret for me, ma'am," he managed, but they could both see he was obviously in pain.

Straightening up, she ordered some men to take Mr. Allen below, and they stared at her, openmouthed in shock and unmoving. The sleeve of her gown had been torn clean off, leaving her shift exposed and her bosom half-uncovered by fabric though coated with blood, and she still carried a bloody, heavy-bladed knife in her right hand. "Get moving, you infernal sons of grass-combing lubbers!" she roared, sounding more like the captain than not, and the men leapt nearly out of their skin but obeyed without a word.

Taking off his coat, Howard helped her put it on for modesty's sake. "Thank you, captain," she said, not seeming to notice the irony, for here she was wearing a red coat!

When they found Pullings, he was completely businesslike, sending some men off in the gig to fetch the captain from his dinner. "Hang the captain! What bloody use is he?" she cried vehemently, coming up beside him. "We need the _doctor_!"

"My God! Rose! Where are you hit?" he asked, going quite pale under his tan when he saw her.

"Not me – it's Mr. Allen. He's injured and I know not how badly."

They all stared at her. Her hair was partly tumbled down, and she looked like some surreal nightmarish creature saturated with the blood of its prey. Half her face and neck were covered, and her pretty summer gown as well; the red officer's coat completed the bizarre picture.

"The doctor is on his way. We sent for him before our dinner and he should be here any moment," Pullings assured her, still looking gravely concerned for her. "Rose – ma'am – you looked savaged. Are you not hurt somewhere?"

"Just a powder burn on my hand." She held up the massive, wicked-looking knife she held, still dripping with blood. "It is not my blood."

His eyes widened, and he gazed at her in silence. There was comprehension between them, as there always was, Captain Howard had noticed several times before, and he nodded a little. "Ma'am, you must go below and tend to Mr. Allen now. Captain Howard and I have the deck, and you are safe. I shall be there as soon as I may."

"Yes, sir," she answered and turned to follow his orders. He watched after her for a second with a frown, before turning to the men who awaited his orders. "Caine," he called, "fetch the captain back, tell him what has occurred."


	23. Like Endless Rain

**

* * *

**

Like Endless Rain

The scene that met Jack's eyes as he came aboard was surreal: blood and bodies everywhere, grim-faced Stephen and Will Mowett, apparently only just arrived, and businesslike Tom Pullings waiting for him.

"Mr. Pullings, what happened here?" he asked slowly. Never had he seen such a thing occur while in port.

"Boarders, sir, come for the lady."

"My God! Is she hurt?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "No, sir, or so she claims."

"There are wounded below, doctor," Mr. Howard, devoid of his coat, came over to them. "Mr. Allen took a nasty wound on his arm and Mrs. Stirling is worrying over him like a goose with a chick."

"Mr. Pullings, gentlemen, let us get things set to right," Jack said to them, "and then I want to see all of you in my cabin."

"Aye, sir." They all saluted and went about their business, but Stephen remained a moment.

"It seems the stakes have gone up," he remarked. "I learned in town that she is now worth ten thousand pounds."

"Ten thousand? Damn. I would have never imagined this had spread from Savannah all the way here already," said Jack. "And boarders attacking a King's ship while in port? I cannot imagine that even pirates would dare such a thing!"

"Doctor! There you are!" called the lady in question as she came up on deck. The men stopped to look at her, for in the golden lamplight, she was a ghoulish apparition with the Marine Captain's coat hanging over her ruined gown and with the dried blood caking not only one side of her face but also her disheveled hair and her throat. "Why do you delay? Mr. Allen needs to be seen, and he is more missish than a little girl!" she told him in an annoyed tone. "As if the sight of a man without his on shirt will cause me to swoon."

Her words were ironic to the point of being surreal: there she stood with the blood of men she had killed covering her and talking of social niceties afforded to ladies.

"I shall go to him directly," Stephen assured her. "Only, tell me if you are hurt."

"Not at all, a powder burn, but it will keep."

The doctor made off to attend his patients, but the captain had the lady in his sights and a partial idea of what had occurred. "Mrs. Stirling," said Jack, studying her eerie appearance and the gruesome effect of the dried blood. "Those captain's epaulettes do suit you, ma'am," he told her after a moment. "But I hope you will own that I am still in command of this ship."

"I did what I had to do in your absence," she shot back.

He paused, for she was fierce and defensive but held none of the brilliance that they were accustomed to seeing when she was in a passion. When he spoke again, it was gently. "My dear, please go below and have a bath whilst we are busy here. I shall have Killick set the hot water for you in my cabin. After that, I must ask for some account of what occurred this evening."

"Very well, sir. Give me half an hour."

Once she had disappeared below, the men were able to turn their attention back to their work; however, there was whispering among them, which was no great surprise. When Jack finally entered the Great Cabin, he found that Stephen had taken Rose down to his surgery to tend to a slight gunpowder burn on her hand. Killick poured out glasses of wine as the others arrived, and even Mr. Allen, stitched, pale, and bandaged but obviously not seriously hurt, came to meet with them.

"Before the doctor and Mrs. Stirling return," Jack began, looking gravely at each of them, "answer me this: were you in command, Mr. Pullings? And why in God's name was she permitted to fight with you?"

"I was, sir, and she was certainly not permitted to fight."

"Mr. Pullings ordered her to remain in her cabin," added Mr. Allen. "Both I and Captain Howard witnessed it."

"I can't imagine she puts much store in permission, that lady," said Howard. "I saw her take out three men myself – two shot in the head and one with a slashed jugular. It was what saved Mr. Allen's life, for I could not reach him in time." Amazed, he shook his head. "Damn fine work, too. Good aim, calm and unshakable – nerves like a Marine!"

A little silence fell as Stephen entered and lead her in, freshly bathed, wrapped in her modest dressing gown, wet hair hanging down her back and a small bandage wound around her hand. His gentle manner with her was telling, and her appearance could not have been more changed from the blood-caked creature of an hour before: she looked achingly young, nervous, and vulnerable as she stood biting her lip and looking at them with wide eyes.

Jack softened and changed his mind about taking her to task sternly for her rash actions. "Ma'am, pray take this chair and let me pour you a glass of wine." Filled both with compassion and protectiveness, Jack guided her to her seat, set a full glass in her hand, encouraged her to drink some, and hoped it would relax her. Although she knew them, the poor thing must be suffering terribly, with fear for her own life and now having to relive the horror of the evening's attack before a roomful of men to judge her actions.

"Mr. Allen," she said with a genuine, tremulous smile. "How glad I am to see you well!"

"I must thank you, ma'am, both for your kindness and for my life," he replied in a subdued tone.

She flushed a painful red and fiddled nervously with the folds of her dressing gown. "No, no – I am just relieved that I could help."

"Well, then… I am sorry that they interrupted our drinking to your engagement, the rude cullies," he said. "We shall toast you again tomorrow, I promise."

"Engagement?" asked Jack with a confused frown.

"Yes, sir," said Tom awkwardly, hardly knowing how to express his joy at this sober meeting and unable to keep from glancing at the lady with undisguised affection. "Mrs. Stirling has honored me by accepting my proposal."

The news shocked Jack; Mowett, who had been drinking his wine, lowered his glass and stared at his friend. Before anyone could speak, Rose did. "I will not hold you to it, of course," she told him in a subdued voice, not looking at him.

"Not _hold_ me to it?" he repeated slowly, frowning.

"I told you I wouldn't make a proper wife, and now you see it." She smiled a little, wistfully, still averting her eyes.

"And I told you that _nothing_ would change my mind, and I meant it."

"That is enough," Jack broke in. In truth, he hardly knew what to think, but the last thing they needed was to rouse tempers and other passions. "Mrs. Stirling, Mr. Pullings, must I really take you to task again for quarreling?"

"Sorry, sir," said Pullings.

"Like an old married couple already!" chuckled Mowett despite his complete astonishment at the news.

"Mr. Mowett," said Jack in a warning voice. "Now, please, keep private matters for later and help me to understand what went on today, for boarders and a melee in a friendly port will not be easy to explain to Admiral Bellows."

"I believe it all started with me," said Stephen to deflect some of the attention from Tom and Rose. "I was lunching with Mrs. Stirling and Mr. Pullings when I noticed we had been followed all morning."

"Followed?"

"Yes, and so Mr. Pullings immediately took the lady back to the ship. I attempted to discover what I could and thus followed the follower. When he saw them return to the ship, our dirty friend lead me to an equally unclean pub. I could not, unfortunately, follow him into a private room."

"Forgive me, sir," broke in Mowett, who looked completely confused. "Why would anyone want to harm Mrs. Stirling?"

"Because she holds the key to some vital information," he explained. "The lady's father discovered that a man of his acquaintance was a traitor to the Crown. Unfortunately, he became ill and died less than a year ago, and now, Mrs. Stirling must collect the papers, the evidence against this man."

It was not enough of an explanation and prompted numerous questions, including the unspoken one about where and how she had gained the skills of a cold-blooded assassin. Rose looked around at the men whose job it was to protect her and to keep her alive, at least until the evidence was in hand. "Captain, I know that you seek to protect me," she began, "but I believe that those who fight and risk their lives should at least know what is at stake. There is no one in this room who doesn't deserve to know the truth. If this mission is successful, it will be common knowledge anyway. If it is not successful…. well, then my life will be over and none of it will matter one way or the other."

To himself, Jack admitted that he was glad she had come to this decision. "Very well." He took a deep breath as he looked over the questioning faces of Mowett, Howard, and Allen. "The lady's father was a criminal, and for her association with him, she was condemned but granted leniency years ago and became a free woman."

"Condemned?" repeated Captain Howard. "For killing a man in self-defense?"

"No, for piracy," she answered, looking down into her wine glass. Her voice was flat, tired. "I was spared the gallows, though, for sharing important information about smugglers and pirates. My father passed on less than a year ago, and I am on my way to fetch some of his documents which will reveal the treasonous activities of a man in the King's service as well as many other crimes."

"Piracy!" cried Mr. Allen weakly. "It cannot be so! You are a lady!"

"It is so. As you say, my parents were both born gentlefolk, for my mother was the granddaughter of a viscount. My father was John Flint, and he gave up the gentleman's life to become a gentleman of fortune."

"Flint?" Mowett exclaimed. "My God!"

"Indeed. I was born aboard the _Walrus_ and raised to the sea life. My mother always taught me to be a lady, which has served me in good stead. My father taught me to pilot a ship, including all the mathematics. He also valued me, even as a girl child, and taught me from infancy how to defend myself."

"Was it he who taught you to shoot?" asked Howard.

"It was," she agreed. "He always said that if one was going to shoot to kill, one must be sure to do the job right with one shot. The only sure way to kill a man with one bullet is to put it in his head. Anywhere else, and he might still get up. I practiced that shot every day for much of my life. Well, when my mother passed on, I was still a girl, and he sent me to attend a school for ladies." A slight smile passed over her features.

"I would imagine that none of the other ladies had skill in shooting a man in the head," remarked Allen with a dark frown.

"No, indeed, sir, though I doubt any of them would ever have the need to do such a thing, as I did. Well after I left school, I grieved for the sea and ran away, back to my father in Savannah. I sailed with him for a short time, and he had me as master. Though I was only seventeen at the time, most of the pirates are experienced mariners without any education, so I was useful to him. I could not abide violence, though, and then I had an offer from an honest seaman and left that life. Back in England, I was arrested, tried, and condemned, but as I said, they granted me clemency in exchange for information.

"It all might have ended there; however, my father wrote a deathbed letter to me charging me with collecting his papers and condemning the man who is a traitor to England, betraying his King and country for gold. After that, the attempts on my life started. The boys were placed untimely as midshipmen with captains whom I know and trust, and I have come to collect the evidence to convict the traitor and save my own skin."

"So, Flint, your father, taught you to shoot a man in the head or slit his throat?" asked Mr. Allen. "And you have killed men before?"

"That's enough, sir," said Jack with a warning in his voice.

"No, captain, he is right. It's not the first throat I've cut, and the way this cruise is going, it won't be the last." Now, there was a touch of bitterness in her voice as well as sadness. "That was the second way to be sure a man was dead: cut his throat. From the days of my childhood, it was what I learned, and I have put it to good use."

"It was what saved your life, sir," Howard told Allen. "You have nerves like a Marine, ma'am. You must have that from your father."

"Old Terayen told us that it was your mother who had nerves like a man," volunteered Stephen.

At these words, she smiled. "He was afraid of my mother. He always thought she was a demon born in the guise of a lady."

"Forgive me, sir," broke in Mowett. "Who is Terayen?"

"This vile old pirate gone honest we visited in Savannah," Stephen informed him. "He told us that Mrs. Stirling had a price on her head. Five thousand pounds to the man who killed her."

There was a heavy second of silence, and then, "Five _thousand_ pounds?" and "Five thousand?"

There was silence for a moment, and Jack looked at the three who had heard this story for the first time. Mowett's expression was guarded, but Howard had seen and admired her skill with pistol and knife and seemed more ready to accept the situation. Allen was not at his best and seemed most strongly affected by everything they had heard; other than that, Jack could not tell.

"I will say this only once: as the magistrates have pardoned the lady, so shall we," he said with finality. "We have specific orders to keep her safe while she fetches the documents and to see the traitor brought to trial. Now, as to tonight's business: Mr. Pullings, your report?"

"Sir, when we left the doctor and returned to the ship, Mr. Howard set the Marines on alert, for I felt there was some danger, but _this_ I never expected. We had nearly finished dinner when we heard the shout to repel boarders. We were outmanned but fought with discipline."

"It was good that Mr. Pullings set us on alert," added Howard. "Otherwise, it might have come to a different end."

"And where were you, ma'am?" Jack asked Rose. "Were you instructed to stay below?"

"I was, sir," she admitted in a quiet voice, looking away from him, "but I could not hide while these men fought to protect me, not when I knew I could help."

_I wish Tom luck with her_, Jack said to himself. "Let me ask you one thing: what would your father have done had you disobeyed a direct order?"

For a moment, she hesitated. "The truth is that it would have depended on the outcome. With respect, sir, in this case, he would have been satisfied that I hit my mark every time and swayed the odds in our favor."

"Amen to that," said Mr. Howard.

"Yes, it has all turned out for the best this time, but it very easily could have gone the other way. Now, my dear lady, this is a ship of His Majesty's Navy, and we are all required to follow orders. I do not want to see such disobedience again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, gazing down into her wine glass, seeming soundly chastened: he was afraid she would burst into tears.

"No reason to fret now, ma'am. Let me pour you a little more," he said kindly and refilled her wine glass. "Mr. Pullings, please go on with your report."

The lieutenant described his particular perception of the battle, and then Howard told what he had seen. All of them pretended not to notice Rose brushing at her eyes, except Stephen who handed her his handkerchief and looked pointedly at Jack.

"Well…" said Jack, momentarily lost as how to proceed. "I think perhaps this day has been too much for you, my dear." He glanced at Stephen and then at Tom. "Mr. Pullings, will you see the lady back to her cabin?"

"Aye, sir." Silent, self-conscious, awkward, he came around the table.

Stephen took Rose's arm as she got up. "I shall check on you in the morning," he told her quietly.

"Thank you," she whispered and, without looking at Tom, went out the door that he had opened for her.

"There is one more thing that you gentlemen should know," said Jack once they were gone. "In Kingston, the doctor learned that the price on the lady's head now stands at ten thousand pounds."

"Ten thousand pounds?" repeated Captain Howard.

"To murder her and prevent the incriminating documents from coming to light," Stephen said. "Though she may not be quite the helpless woman we once thought, to kill in self-defense is no crime."

"But a _pirate_!" sputtered Mr. Allen. "Flint were a cold bastard, the blood-thirstiest buccaneer to ever sail, and never was caught!"

"Sins of the father," Stephen sighed. "Mrs. Stirling says she was never a pirate, that she sailed her father's ship and defended herself. I believe it is true, though you must all make up your own minds."

"We are not judges and magistrates," Jack told them all. "First of all, she has been pardoned and is thus a free and honest woman. Secondly, she is my guest on this ship and is to be treated with civility and respect. Finally, we must protect her at all costs and bring the evidence back safely. The rest was told to you out of respect and could have easily remained secret without affection the mission. Now, I don't want to hear one more word about this. Is that understood?"

"Aye, sir," they chorused.

"Very well. Now, on to other business."

**

* * *

Mowett quotations: **

'There he is – call out – run after him – you will catch him if you run.'

He had not been into the coffee-house that morning because it was a question either of paying for a cup of coffee or of paying for a boat to row him out to the _Sofie_, and he had therefore been unavailable for the midshipman, who now came running along behind him

'Dr Maturin?' asked young Mowett, and stopped short, quite shocked by the pale glare of reptilian dislike. However, he delivered his message; and he was relieved to find that it was greeted with a far more human look.  
_Master and Commander_

_Mowett is asked to show Stephen everything he would like to see around the _Sophie, _the beginning of a long passage in Chapter 3 where he explains the rigging and sails to Stephen and thus to the reader. He also recites several fragments of poems:  
_James Mowett was a tubular young man, getting on for twenty; he was dressed in old sailcloth trousers and a striped Guernsey shirt, a knitted garment that gave him very much the look of a caterpillar; and he had a marlinspike dangling round his neck, for he had meant to take a hand in the making of a new mainsail. He looked attentively at Stephen to make out what kind of man he was, and with that mixture of easy grace and friendly deference which comes naturally to so many sailors he made his bow and said, 'Well, sir, where do you choose to start? Shall we go into the top directly You can see the whole run of the deck from up there.'  
------------------------------------------

'It is a pleasure to hear a man who thoroughly understands his profession. You are very exact, sir.'

'Oh, I hope the captains will say the same, sir.' cried Mowett. 'When next we put into Gilbraltar I am to go for my lieutenant's examination again. Three senior captains sit upon you; and last time a very devilish captain asked me how many fathoms I should need for the main crowfoot, and how long the euphroe was. I could tell him now: it is fifty fathoms and the euphroe is fourteen inches. I believe I could tell him anything that can even be attempted to be measured, except perhaps for the new mainyard, and I shall measure that with my tape before dinner. Should you like to hear some dimensions, sir?'

'I should like it of all things.'  
------------------------------------------

'And this, sir, is where we live,' said Mowett, advancing his lantern into the midshipmen's berth. 'Pray, mind the beam. I must beg your indulgence for the smell: it is probably young Babbington here.'

'Oh, it is not!' cried Babbington, springing up from his book. 'You are cruel, Mowett,' he whispered, with seething indignation.  
_Master and Commander_

_Jack hosts a ball  
_Deserting the supper-table, three sailors, including Admiral James, pursued Diana into the orangery; but they withdrew when they saw Stephen waiting for her there with her shawl.

'I did not think the doctor had it in him,' said Mowett. 'In the Sophie we always looked on him as a sort of monk.'  
_Post Captain_

_Jack's letter to Sophie  
_….I shall be glad to see Turnbull leave the ship at the Cape, and to receive young Mowett again.  
_Desolation Island_

_Stephen turns up late for their departure  
_'Upon my word, Doctor,' said Mowett, the officer of the watch, 'you have cut it pretty fine, I must say. You very nearly made us miss our tide. What was you thinking of? and you are wet – sopping wet. How did you get so wet?'

Mr Pullings, standing by the weather-rail, looking stiff and remote, said, 'The rendezvous was for the height of flood two tides ago, sir,' with no kind word of greeting.

Stephen had known Mowett and Pullings since they were mere snotty reefers of no consequence whatsoever, and at any other time he would have snapped them as tight shut as a snuff-box; but now their vast moral superiority, the general strong mute disapprobation of the Worcester's company, and his own wet misery left him without a word, and although in the depths of his mind he was half aware that this harshness was at least in part assumed, that is belonged to the naval idea of fun he had so often suffered from, he could not bring himself to respond.  
------------------------------------------

'Here you are, Doctor,' cried Pullings, shaking his hand. 'On time to the second.' He was smiling all over his tanned friendly face, but there was more than a hint of anxiety in his eye, and he went on, 'Poor Mowett is afraid he upset you, sir, playing off his humours when you came aboard: it was only for our fun, you know, sir, but we were afraid you might not have twigged it, being, as I might saw, so uncommonly damp.'

'Never in my life, my dear,' said Stephen. 'What are you drinking?'

'Two-water grog.'

'Then pray give me a glass. William Mowett, your very good health….'  
------------------------------------------

Pullings thrust in his knife, thrust in his spoon, and his anxiety gave way to triumph. 'There, Doctor,' he said, passing Stephen his plate, 'There's my surprise – there's your real welcome aboard.'

'Bless me,' cried Stephen, staring at his goose and truffle pie – more truffle than goose – 'Mr Pullings, joy, I am amazed, amazed and delighted.'

'I hoped you might be,' said Pullings, and he explained to the others that long ago, when first made lieutenant, he had seen that the Doctor loved trubs, so he had gone out into the forest, the New Forest, where he lived by land, and had dug him a basket, by way of welcome aboard: and Mowett had composed a song.

'_Welcome aboard, welcome aboard,' _sang Mr Mowett  
'_Sober as Adam or drunk as a lord  
__Eat like Lucullus and drink like a king,  
__Doze in your hammock while sirens do sing,  
__Welcome, dear Doctor, oh welcome aboard,  
__Welcome aboard,  
__Welcome aboard.'_

The others ground their glasses on the table, chanting 'Welcome aboard, welcome aboard,' and then drank to him in the thin harsh purple liquid that passed for claret in the _Worcester_'s wardroom.  
_The Ionian Mission_

And their officers were not much better, either: Mowett and Rowan, the other lieutenant, had both been to the Sappers' ball, ad they had evidently competed in drinking deep by land, just as they competed in versemanship by sea; and both were suffering from the effects.  
_Treason's Harbour_

_Stephen bring aboard a beautiful spy whom they all think is his mistress…  
_'Little do I know about Venus,' said Stephen, 'except that she is an inferior planet.'

'Oh fie,' cried she, and the purser, the Marine, and Jack made a number of gallant and sometimes quite witty remarks. Mowett and Rowan, however, who might have been expected to shine with uncommon brilliance, remained mute, smiling and gazing and chuckling to themselves….  
_Treason's Harbour_

But his voice changed entirely as he was set down on deck and found his old shipmate james Mowett standing there to receive him. 'Why, James Mowett, joy, how happy I am to see you. But what are you doing here? I thought you were to be first of the _Illustrious_.'

'So I am, sir. William Babbington is just giving me a lift to Gibraltar.'

'Of course, of course. Tell, how does your book come along?'

Mowett's exceptionally cheerful face clouded slightly: 'Well, sir, publishers are most hellish – ' he began. But Babbington interrupted to welcome the Doctor aboard…  
------------------------------------------

"Mr Mowett,' called Stephen in the pause while the table was clearing to make room for the pudding, and the pudding-wine – in this case Frontignan and Canary – was handing about. 'you were telling me about your publishers.'

'Yes, sir: I was about to say that they were most hellish procrastinators – '

'Oh how dreadful,' cried Fanny. 'Do they go to – to special houses, or do they …'

'He means they delay,' said Babbington.

'Oh.'

'Yes, The book was supposed to come out on the Glorious first of June; then it was put off to Trafalgar pay; and now they say nothing but the anniversary of Camperdown will really suit the public mind. Yet at least it has this advantage – I can polish what is already down and I can add a new piece I have written.'

'Tip us the new piece, Mowett,' said Pullings.

'Yes, do,' said both Babbington and Fanny.

'Well, said Mowett with mixed pleasure and modesty, 'it is rather long. So if I may, ma'am' – bowing to Fanny – 'I will just say the end verses: it is about a battle, and these lines are meant to show the carnage at its height….  
_The Letter of Marque_


	24. The Mission

O'Brian quotes for Lady Legrace and Miss Flossy:

"…Mr. Pullings, or the Maiden as the Kutaliotes called him because of his mild face and gentle manners…"

"Much of the night he spent on deck, watching the clouds scud from the north as he passed up and down, irritating the harbour-watch and absolutely terrifying Mowett as he crept back from a venereal assignation…"

_

* * *

_

**The Mission**

The heavy, uncomfortable silence stretched between them, tactile and unpleasant. At first, Tom reached out to take her arm, but he hesitated and stopped: what was between them prevented him. They walked in silence; saying nothing, she preceded him into the silent gunroom and thus to her cabin, entering and leaving the door open for him. He stood in the doorway gazing at her back as she wrung her hands.

What could he say to comfort her? Did she really think that he would want to break their engagement? "Rose," he began a little uncertainly.

"if you are going to say that I should have stayed here as you told me, then you can save your breath," she said with a sudden burst of bitterness as she turned to face him. "If it's a compliant and obedient woman you want, you will be sorely disappointed in me."

"Compliant and obedient?" he repeated, wondering what had provoked her outburst. The absurdity of such an idea! Although he knew that they had privacy here while the others were with the captain, he closed the door behind him. "No, that is not what I want. I want a woman who commands me to lie back because she wants to get on top of me."

The response caused her to turn away again quickly. "You are funning with me," he heard her say in a low mumble.

"No. I would not make light of such a thing." His reply was met with no response, and he waited to see what she would say, but there was nothing. "Rose?" He went nearer and realized that she was weeping. "Damn! Forgive me, I was not funning. I should not have – no, I was most serious although perhaps I spoke in too light a tone. Forgive my manners, it was kindly meant."

She looked at him again, her eyes wet and red; there was no doubt that he was in earnest. With a sigh, she moved closer and reached to embrace him about the waist.

Only for a moment did he hesitate then hugged her firmly. "You are safe now," he soothed, "at least for a few days." By no means did he blame her; however, he knew nothing at all about comforting a distraught woman. "You can cry if you like, sweetheart," he told her. "You ain't a killer, to be sure, and you told how violence disturbs you. I've killed plenty of men in my life, and I know how hard it is, and after, when it's over, you feel shaky."

A little muffled laugh was audible from where her face was buried against his chest. How well he understood!

Drawing back a little, he looked down at her tired, pale face and red-rimmed eyes. Nonplussed, he hardly knew what to say. "They've had their rations for the day, to be sure, and you know you're safe now and will be safe asea. We'll sail with the morning tide."

The day had been long and trying; she nodded, looking weary and worn. "I wish you could stay though I know you cannot."

"As do I." He kissed her temple. "Soon, my sweet."

"This evening was bad," she remarked gloomily. "It will be worse before the end."

* * *

By the time Stephen awoke at the end of the morning watch, the _Surprise_ was out of sight of Jamaica and heading southwest. The wind, which had been with them on the easterly run off the south coast of Cuba, was against them, and once out of the island's currents, they had to make against the gentle trade winds. The weather was fine, but he could see that the events of the previous night had struck every man in the crew. Stories were already abounding of the lady battling the boarders, standing back to back with Captain Howard, brandishing two cutlasses and cutting down a dozen men. No, it was a score of men with a blade and a pistol. Then it was eighteen men with just a knife. It amused him a little to see how things grew with each telling. 

Besides that, the men were talking of the engagement. The lads who had waited on the gunroom for dinner had told of the lieutenant's announcement and the toast that had been interrupted when the alarm went up. _A bad omen_, it was said, and although her sordid past was known only to the officers, the hands believed the marriage to be cursed even before the vows had been spoken. On that point, Stephen imagined that Rose would agree.

Mr. Allen was fed beef broth and red wine for both breakfast and luncheon and was much better when they all came together in the Great Cabin during the afternoon watch to go over the actual mission. When she saw him, Rose lit up with a smile and said, "How joyous it is to see you so much better, sir!"

His reply was with the barest of civilities, and he did not bother to look at her. "Thank you for your concern, ma'am," he said in an icy voice, and the lady recoiled as if she had been struck.

Since he could not actually add anything to their plans (he could not even follow the points they were making), Stephen sat back and observed the interactions of the others around the chart of the island instead. Jack himself was entirely professional and kept a tight rein on the proceedings. Pullings, too, was professionally reserved in behavior; however, his facial expressions often gave him away. Mowett was cool to the point of being unreadable: he asked questions to clarify certain points and treated the lady cordially, as if she were a respected stranger. Allen, on the other hand, had developed a strong disgust for her and did not come near her. Dressed in her only remaining summer gown, Rose Stirling was pale and serious, and she spoke confidently as she explained to them how the ship would have to be sailed into the bay: diagonally, from the southeast, over a fatally dangerous reef.

"It cannot be done!" the sailing master declared, eying her with disapproval. "Into the wind at that angle with a ship of this size! It's madness."

"Of course it can be done," she assured him, achieving a respectful tone. "It isn't easy, of course, but it's possible."

"That reef will rip the hull from stem to stern!" he continued forcefully.

"That is a risk, sir, with a pilot who does not know the reef and its secrets," she assured him, "but I know this island, and you may rest assured that I can take her in safely."

"Sir," he said to the captain in a voice edged with sarcasm. "Must we really listen to this madness?"

"Now, Mr. Allen, there's no need to take that tone here," said Jack.

"I have done it," she told Allen defiantly. "The _Walrus_ is a 36-gun frigate at more than a thousand tons. The _Surprise_ is not more than six hundred: it will be easy. I sailed the Walrus in with her hold full of gold."

Her words had an immediate effect: the men looked at her with expressions of mixed disapproval, distaste, and horror. Even Stephen understood this, for she was talking of stolen gold, pirate booty, the stuff for which honest men had been murdered. Even poor Tom Pullings looked at her with a shocked, sorrowful expression.

"Since it has been done with a bigger, heavier ship," Stephen broke in. "It makes perfect sense to say that the Surprise can enter the bay with some sense of ease."

"That is exactly what I am saying doctor," Rose replied. Her face was flushed and her brows lowered; he wondered what it would take to really rouse her temper.

"Three will be no more discussion," Jack told them all. "Mrs. Stirling will guide us into the bay. Mr. Allen, you will note the entry carefully so that you may reproduce it. Mr. Pullings, Mr. Mowett, you will aid the lady with the crew, for they will not be used to taking orders from her, and you will also note the entry so that you may reproduce it if necessary." He looked around at each of them, his eyes slowly traveling from face to face as he assessed the situation. "Now, ma'am, if you please, start from the beginning and go over the route past the reef in a step-by-step manner."

The voices droned on, and Stephen stopped trying to follow what they said. He studied the people, instead, curious about the uncertain Will Mowett and the antagonistic John Allen.


	25. Flint's Island

I have to just say that this bit has to be dedicated to 3 people: Finrod, who advised me on how men would talk together; Legrace, from whose fiery and eternal character I have "borrowed" a lot, and the late Jacques Cousteau, who is my hero of all time.

Baxley:  
_I had my very own Chapter 20 with my husband  
_Now that's what I like to hear! I would be happy to read what you have written - as long as it's during the weekend -D

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Flint's Island

The third day out, Will Mowett came to relieve Tom Pullings after the first watch. A hair past midnight, they stood beneath a sickle moon in quiet companionship, watching the slow wake of the ship trailing out behind them like a ribbon in the black sea.

"Tom," sighed the second lieutenant. "I told myself to say nothing, and I probably shouldn't, but I have to."

"What do you mean?" asked his friend in unfeigned confusion.

"I think very highly of Mrs. Stirling. She's a fine woman – charming and a sweet lady. I can't praise her enough, and I am tremendously happy at your joy."

Tom turned to eye him with a dark frown. "But?"

"The plain truth is that her past cannot be kept a secret forever." Will sighed. "Of course it is necessary to protect her as long as possible. But, Tom, when she stands up in court and accuses this man of treason in her father's name, all the world will know what she has been."

Tom nodded. "Yes, I realize that."

"Tom… it would ruin you." He shook his head, miserable at having to speak so cruelly to his good friend. "You know we have almost no chance of being promoted to commander, but having a wife convicted of piracy…" Exasperated, wretched, Will Mowett raked his fingers through his hair. "Were you a fo'c'sle hand, a parson – a landsman, even – I would have said nothing, but you are none of these things. My God, Tom, I don't want to cause you pain, but I must say this, and then I'll remain silent forever."

His friend was looking the other way, his jaw tight.

"And those two little boys – what will happen to them? Midshipmen whose mother is known throughout the navy as a convict and a pirate? There must be some way to protect them."

"They're with two excellent captains now: old Hawkes and Commodore Bellows. That will be enough for a while." He smiled a bit sadly. "Well, now, if you are against her, who will be for her?"

"I am certainly not against her. Any matter, she says she will not hold you to it. How could she, really, with what we now know?"

At first, Tom did not say anything. "I appreciate your concern," he finally said. "And I know you speak out of friendship." He drew in a breath and sighed. "I hope that when the time comes that you will stand up with me as groomsman."

Will's mouth opened in surprise: it was not the answer he had been hoping for. He had said his bit, though,and would not mention it again. Still, he smiled a little and nodded. "It would be an honor."

* * *

The lookouts sighted land in the middle ofthe next morning. In the lazy warmth of the quarterdeck, Stephen had been watching some unusually marked gulls and Rose was working on a new summer gown. The chiffon gown's pearl buttons she had finished first before starting on this one from the rich length of cloth she had bought in Kingston. When the land call went up, they both looked up, startled. 

Jack was there in an instant; indeed, all the hands came on deck to see. The officers and midshipman all trained spy-glasses on the distant speck and Stephen made a witty remark about how they looked, all ranged along the starboard rail like that; however, the lady was not attending. She was staring at the island with a delicate frown.

"Ma'am, is that the island?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir."

For several long minutes, he studied the island in his glass before closing it and turning to Rose. "We have about three hours until the high tide," he told her, "and about five hours of daylight after that. Will it serve? Or must we wait for the morning tide?"

"It will be plenty of time, sir," she answered. "We'll be sweeping in very fast."

"Good. It won't interfere with the hands' meal then." Moving closer and lowering his voice so that no others could hear, he said, "Are you certain that you are up to it? Not to doubt your ability, but after so many years…"

She considered her answer for a moment. "I have no doubt at all. My only worry is how I shall deal with the men at first. I am a bit nervous about how to speak to them."

"I'll be right there, and the others officers as well, to aid and assist. You know I generally give my orders to them and they pas everything along to the crew. You'll have no problems with myself, or Mr. Pullings, of course, or Mr. Mowett."

"It is only the first few minutes that concern me," she admitted with a little smile. "Once we're underway, I'll forget to be nervous."

Stephen and Rose lunched with Jack, and the two men kept the conversation light and humorous. After that, she went to change into trousers and returned to the Great Cabin. She wore long, loose trousers that disguised much of her figure and a loose white shirt over another white shirt. Her curved figure was impossible to hide, but as far as men's clothes on a woman, it was the least degree of impropriety. Certainly, no man would be inflamed by anything revealed, for it covered more of her than her evening gowns. Jack looked at her with veiled disapproval before escorting her above.

All the officers were on hand with orders to assist, and all hands were watching. The rumor was that she was to guide them into the bay, and none of them knew what was true. From the moment she came on deck, she was gravely serious. At first, she made silent observation of the weather, then examined the island with a glass. When she looked at Jack and nodded, it was nigh high tide. She was ready to take command of the ship.

"We'll run west and sweep in north-nor'west on the diagonal. A point north of north nor-west," she called in a strong quarterdeck voice.

"A point north of north-nor'west. Aye, sir." The cox'n began turning the wheel. "Aye, ma'am."

"Trim the maintop t'gallant."

"Aye, ma'am."

Stephen observed what was progressing from the quarterdeck, keeping well out of the way. Poor nervous Rose very quickly lost her worries and self-consciousness in her occupation: even to him and his unlearned eyes, the sailing was difficult. The closer they came to the island, the more orders were called out and the more ease she seemed to take in the employment. It relieved him, for she had been wound up tight as a coil at luncheon and he had felt terribly sorry for her in this impossible situation. Now, she seemed almost to enjoy it.

The Caribbean was fresh and blue all around them and the white capped waves danced merrily as the _Surprise_ sliced through them. So many sails were furled and unfurled, trimmed and loosened. and they were sailing into the wind. Men were in action, leaping and responding to the cries of the officers, and Stephen Maturin began to understand what they had all been talking about when they had said that sailing into this bay would be difficult.

The island neared, or so it seemed. It loomed over them, and the geological formation fascinated him so much that he forgot the dangerous sailing. On the map, he had seen the island was shaped like an almond with the pointed top almost due north and the flat southerly bottom opening onto a long narrow bay. All round, as far as he could see, were sheer cliffs plunging down to the sea. There was nowhere to land except the bay, and that was protected by the treacherous reef, or so the chart had indicated. Nearer they came. As of yet, he could see no coral, but the angle was steep enough to make them all grasp lines to steady themselves.

Rose's strong, angry voice interrupted his introversion. "What is the matter whit that t'gallant?" she shouted. "This is not one of your Dutchmen's barges!"

Expecting to see a flicker of amusement, Stephen glanced at Jack. Instead, he saw a dark frown and a glare. The lady must have been right, and the approach must have been far more dangerous than it seemed to Stephen.

Again, he turned his attention back to the island, trying to identify some birds that he saw diving for fish. They were neither gulls nor any other seabird he had seen before, but they reminded him a bit of puffins. Close, now, and more shouting aboard. The island was coming up a damn sight too fast, even Stephen could see it. If there was truly a fatal reef ahead, could they hope to pass over it intact?

Now, it struck him. Rose had climbed up on the foresail and was sitting straddling the foremast's yardarm, staring at the deep blue water. "Starboard a little," she called. "Starboard a little." Somehow, the promise of the stormy days at sea when she had become one with the wind and the sea came to fruition. Total, complete, like an incandescent sun, the tall woman leapt down from the yard and clambered up on the starboard rail close to the bowsprit. Grasping lines in both hands, she leaned out over the edge, staring straight down into the water.

"Hold your course," she roared, hanging almost perpendicular over the surface of the sea. Quickly, she jumped down to the deck and ran over to the larboard side where she climbed up easily and studied the water. "Starboard a little!"

Forgetting the danger and the seriousness of what was being attempted, with the ship barreling down on the reef at a ridiculous speed, he studied the sea-creature he knew as Rose. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered aloud. Beautiful, she was, far too lovely and incandescent for a creature of the land. Some of the strange iridescent creatures of the deep that he had seen had this grace, this brilliance, this captivating essence. Lost in the life or death maneuvers of the ship, caught up in the passion of the moment, the fierce and matchless daughter of the sea stood upon the rail balanced on one foot and holding to the lines with the wind rushing past her and uttering a laugh and cry of exultation.

The wind carried them far into the bay, easily. Around a bend, they slowed, until the wind was almost dissipated there in the depression between the massive cliffs on the exterior of the island. The reef was past, the ship was safe, and all the men were able to breathe easier in relief. But the magnificent Rose Stirling was lit up with all the passion of her soul as she made her way back to the quarterdeck. Her smile at Pullings was intense enough to worry the others about being singed, and Stephen saw Mowett grin; Mr. Allen was silent and frowning. "Welcome to Flint's Island," she said to Jack with a trifle of sadness that dampened a little her ephemeral loveliness.


	26. A Pirate's Legacy

Baxley, I don't know where your writings are. Could you give a link or something?

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**

A Pirate's Legacy

The inlet curved in like a crab's claw, and the unusual geography held Stephen's interest. Volcanic rock, of course, but the sheer exterior cliffs puzzled him. Had a volcanic explosion destroyed most of a larger island?

They took up anchorage in the deep interior of the island out of sight of the open sea. The northern and western shores consisted of broad, sandy white beaches that gave way to flat grassy areas and patches of dark jungle. The eastern shore was sharp, rocky, and full of caverns hewn by water: not the sea but fresh water tumbling down in three waterfalls from the cliffs high above. As the western shore curved southward, it too featured huge rocks and numerous caverns.

The crew were unaware of their reason for their journey, and there was no possibility of any other ship entering the inlet. Jack wisely had the watches set so that the men had plenty of liberty and very few had to remain with the ship. Cheerfully, all hands set about their work, fastening down the lines and sails and setting up their camp onshore well up from the sand beach and in the grassy area with a few banana and coconut trees between sand and jungle. Hats, coats and waistcoats were set aside in the heat, but no one minded on this sweet island paradise.

Days before, Rose had told them that the site where her father's papers were stored was a long way uphill and would have to be left till the next day. Therefore, the men had some leisure once the camp was set. Some enjoyed splashing the pools of fresh water underneath the waterfall. "There are some wild goats," Stephen overheard Rose told Jack in response to his inquiry about what kind of food could be found on the island. In confusion and uncertainty, the men had given her a wide berth since she had guided the ship. "Roots and berries, and fresh water, as you can see."

The glorious passions of the day had robbed her of sorrow and uncertainty. She laughed and talked easily with the others, though Mr. Allen said nothing and just seemed to watch her with a frown. It was something that Stephen could understand: he despised her for having been a pirate for however short a time; yet he admired the skill and nerve she had shown in the dangerous sailing over the reef.

There was an unsubtle shift with the others as well. Mowett had been polite and reserved with her since they had sailed from Kingston; Howard had been friendly but a little uncertain as to how to speak to her. Only Pullings remained unchanged, although Stephen seemed to think he was _more_ fond of the lady. This night, they sat together for a meal ashore and Mowett seemed to have decided to esteem the lady for his friend's sake. Howard, too, relaxed in the orbit of her easy brilliance, and the two men chatted and competed with the other to make cleverer, wittier comments. As well as he knew Jack, Stephen realized that he was of two minds about the woman: although he would never approve of her appallingly unladylike qualities, he would also admire something of them as well.

In fact, he did feel a bit of pity for Allen who seemed exceptionally uncomfortable in the merry group. Pullings addressed him twice very kindly, but the response had been less than enthusiastic. Rose glanced at him from time to time, but what she was thinking was not at all apparent, though Stephen imagined she was not happy being estranged from her dear friend.

Very late in the evening, Stephen walked down along the shoreline which had gone down dramatically since their arrival at high tide. There were some interesting types of creatures there, and he crouched down to get a better look at a carnivorous sea-star digesting a mussel when a movement caught his eye. Turning his head, he was just in time to see a familiar silhouette and knew that Tom risked everyone discovering that he was spending the night with his lady.

* * *

After they had breakfasted, Jack was impatient for the day's work to be underway. "Before anything else can be done, there is something I must show you." Dressed again in loose trousers and a man's shirt, Rose wore what was a necessary uniform for her on the island: long skirts would have made movement very difficult for her. 

"Show me?" he repeated.

"You and perhaps the doctor. And Mr. Pullings must come." She exhaled a long sigh. "He still intends to marry me after all that he knows, and I want nothing to be secret from him. It is only fair."

With a nod, he agreed. "I have no objection to make. Only, what is it that you intend to show us?"

She considered her answer for a moment. "It is too strange to speak of unless it can be seen. Indulge me this, Jack. You'll see presently what I mean."

Shortly thereafter, she lead the three men down southward along the western shore until the sandy beach gave way to sharp boulders and the caverns and grottos carved by sea and weather. Some little pools of water remained among the rocks, and they splashed through them on the way past. Rose paused a few times as she tried to remember the way among the labyrinthine caverns and grottos. Inside she finally lead them, and their footsteps echoed. The weather and water had worn holes above and sunlight filtered in.

There, outside a narrow inner passage sat two skeletons with rusted cutlasses resting across their bony knees. Rose, who was several paces ahead of the others, crouched down before the pair and gazed at them: first one and then the other. "Do you know who they were?" Stephen asked.

She turned to look at him with a frown and nodded a little before drawing in a deep breath and entering the passage. The men followed and discovered that it opened into a large, airy cave lit by sunlight streaming in through two large holes above. The floor was sandy, and up on a natural rocky shelf were iron-bound chests overflowing with coins, stacked towers of gold bars, and oilskin sacks of gems. Four additional skeletons lay guarding their loot, their eternal grins and the sabers in clutched in their fingers giving them a frightening, menacing air.

"By all that's holy!" swore Stephen, and his voice echoed strangely.

"Careful. This place is full of dark spirits," said Rose.

"My God," said Tom staring at the macabre sight. "How came these poor men to be here?"

"My father set them here to guard his legacy," she answered. "For this he intended to be my inheritance though I told him I would have none of it."

"They were certainly not alive when he set them here," remarked Stephen as he crouched down to study the unnatural way the bones were lying.

"No, he arranged the bodies and called upon the dark spirits to curse any who interfered here but the rightful heir: thus, I have come at last to claim it, but not for myself. I give it freely to you all, the men of the _Surprise_, who have kept me alive thus far."

A little smile spread across Jack's face, for he admittedly loved money and rarely had enough. Then he cleared his throat. "I'm sure there is some legal difficulties in such circumstances."

"For certain; yet you have no sea-lawyers aboard. Well, it's yours now, all of yours. Do with it what you think best." She stepped over one of the skeletons and stood close enough to touch the amassed riches though she did not. "No evil spirits will interfere."

"Are you certain you want to give it all away?" asked Stephen.

"Sir," said Tom at the same time. "When the men get wind of this, there's going to be a riot."

"Well, we'll set down a strict warning before we start moving it about losing grog rations and doling out lashes." Jack turned to the lady and studied her to assess her mood. "Nothing for you, then? Not even one jewel to remember your father?"

"I have memories and nightmares enough of this period in my life," she replied bitterly. "Any matter, I have the birdhouse, which is from a time when he was still…" She trailed off. "It is enough to say that it holds lovely and sad memories, and it is all I need to remember how I loved him and my mother."


	27. Treasure

**Treasure**

The day was hot and the work went slowly. First, the purser was making a careful inventory of Flint's legacy under Mowett's watchful eye. The chests, gold bars, and sacks were then being set in small boxes, nailed shut, and carried on litters by four men. Pullings oversaw the boxes being settled into the boats and rowed out to the Surprise. As sailing master, Allen was responsible for the distribution of stores in the hold, for misplacement could seriously affect the sailing of the ship. The men hoisted the heavy boxes up and he saw to the safe stowing of each of them. To prevent anyone from being overcome by the temptation to take more than his fare share, Royal Marines were posted in the cave, on the beach, onboard the ship, and with the men on every boat being rowed out.

In the end, such precautions had been unnecessary. Almost immediately after the first excitement, Rose had gone off by herself, walking far down on the eastern shore, but not before she had repeated to some of the men that evil spirits would deal with anyone who took what was not his fair share. The warning along with the grisly sight of the guarding skeletons was enough to frighten the greediest of the crew, for sailors were notoriously superstitious.

From where he was directing the loading of the jolly boats, Tom kept an eye on her and wondered if she would object to him keeping his share of the money. He had stopped what he was doing and stood watching her, squinting in the bright glare of the sunlight on the sand and water, and the men grinned at each other to see the unguarded looks of worry and affection mingling in his expression.

Last night, he had found her sitting up in the dark, tense and uneasy and just waiting for morning. In this place, memories haunted her, and she ought not to have been left alone. Although he had gone to her with the intention of kissing her and perhaps loving her as quietly as he could manage, he had held her in his arms: she had clung to him for comfort, for protection, for redemption. Clueless as to what to do or say, he had merely held her and it had been enough. A little pang of regret troubled him that they had not taken the opportunity to make love, for such opportunities rarely presented themselves. For the most part though, he treasured the hours that they had slept alongside one another despite her restlessness.

This reverie was broken when he saw her leave the sandy beach, cross the grassy area, and disappear among the trees and foliage. Where did she think she was going all alone? For a full five seconds, he stared after her before the weight of comprehension hit him with a staggering blow and left him momentarily incapacitated. Of course! The clever minx! But she should not have to go alone.

Turning to one of the midshipmen, he addressed the boy in his formal lieutenant's tone. "Pass word along to the captain that Mrs. Stirling has wandered off alone and I have gone after her. Tell him that she seems to be heading uphill."

"Aye, sir," said the lad, and Tom hurried to the place where he had last seen her, for it was far along the shore. Once he had gained the trees, he found a little trail, nearly overgrown, with visible evidence that someone had just passed. It was easy to follow her, for the foliage was not dense, yet it was overgrown enough to clearly show broken branches and trampled leaves where she had walked.

The little trail began to wind uphill and was steep in some places. He increased his place, hoping to catch up with her sooner rather than later. In his mind, knowing that he could walk much faster than she could weighed against her knowing the way when he did not. "Rose!" he called to her, but got no response. Onward she went and he followed as the trail went gradually upward with momentary steep inclines. He thought he could hear her ahead. "Rose!" he called in a powerful quarterdeck voice.

A pause and then, "Tom?"

"Rose!" He broke into an easy trot. Close now, she was just up ahead and stood waiting for him, elegant brows drawn together in a frown.

"You should not have followed me," she said seriously looking ready to argue or even fight if she had to.

"And you should not have attempted such an errand alone when you are in such distress," he replied with quiet authority. "Especially when I wish only to shoulder a little of your burden."

Her defensive posture eased and her hunched shoulders lowered while a guilty flush stained her cheeks and neck. "Yes, you are right. There are so many secrets to protect that I find it difficult to share them with anyone."

"That is past now," he remarked, taking hold of one of her hands. "I realize you weren't able to speak of this in the dark of night, but creeping off without a word was cowardly."

Anger and hurt flashed and she glared at him; with one jerk, she pulled her hand free. "That is all you see," she accused. Then a deep sigh escaped her. " By the goddess, Tom, you must see that I could not have them there, peering over my shoulder. Not the captain. Not even Stephen."

"And not I?" he ventured.

"That is not what I said," she snapped. "Do not twist my words about. I know very well you would not have let me go without the captain's leave."

A certain amount of truth rang in her words. "You may be right," he began, but before he could speak further, she cut him off.

"I cannot recall anyone calling me a coward before."

These words surprised him and it took a minute to formulate a reply. "No, for you certainly have a lion's courage and have protected the little boys as well as you could. As for me, well, you need not protect me from the truth. It is better for me to share this than for you to endure this alone. And in this instance, letting the captain know where you were going would have been the right thing to do. You should have an escort, for we do not know what dangers there are."

"There is no danger to me on this island." She shook her head, sighed deeply, and set her hands on her hips in a familiar gesture of frustration that he had often seen when she was upset. "Have you not realized there may be a time when your loyalty will be tested? When you'll have to choose between doing what is best for me and doing what is right in the Royal Navy?"

"I may be swept overboard and lost at sea any day of my life," he tried to tease. "I make no decisions based on what _may_ or _may not_ occur in the future. The gods know what is going to happen, you said it yourself."

"You should not say such things." Her face had gone pale and she looked deeply pained, as if her nerves had been stretched past their limit and were in danger of snapping.

At once he regretted making light of it as he remembered how many of her loved ones she had lost. He studied her expression, seeing how all this tore at her, and he was sorry for her. "My sweet Rose," he continued on more gently. "Let us not quarrel at this difficult time. It's nearly over. Your troubles, I mean. I shall come with you to help."

She nodded a little and reached up to embrace him. Forgetting what they were about, he would have stood there indefinitely to preserve the feeling; however, she drew away soon after and began leading him upward on the trail.

Eventually, the ground leveled off to a grassy meadow overgrown with hundreds of wild rose bushes. The blooms were dark blood red and perfumed the sunlit air with their fragrance. At the edge of the treeline stood a small, rough building, little more than a shack and seemingly abandoned for several years. Rose went into the doorway and paused as she looked inside. There was a table still standing, some chairs, and a few other items. Had she known this place in her youth? What memories, foul and fair, lived within her memory?

Leaving the doorway, they went left and around into the woods and back. It was slightly cooler and breezier up here then on the beach and a bit less humid, but still warm and sunny. Under the canopy of trees, it seemed dark and cool.

"Here." She picked her way carefully around the massive roots of a tall pine, and at the same time, they both saw a careful pile of stones between two of the mounds where the roots had pushed up through the soil.

"Is this it?" asked Tom in a hushed tone, but she didn't reply and instead stood staring at the stones with her fingers curled into tight fists.

He got down on one knee and began to shift the stones. Rose joined him, setting the stones aside one by one. There were not many, and they uncovered a small hole. In it was a weatheredbox a bit worse for wear but intact. They glanced wide-eyed at each other, and Tom reached to lift the box out. Carefully, he pried off the lid bit by bit. Finally, he was able to pull it off, and they both looked in.

Several thick packets were stacked there, wrapped in sealskin and tied with leather thongs. Rose took one and untied the knot. Her hands shook as she unwrapped the sealskin and unfolded some of the parchment. Scanning the words quickly, she realized that she had found her treasure and she sat down on the ground with a great sigh.

"This is it," she said in a low voice. "This is what we came for."

"Don't open any more. Let us put it away," he said, and as she folded the parchment, he took up the sealskin. Once it was wrapped, instead of forcing the slightly warped cover back onto the box, he tucked it back into the box and set the cover on top.

Rose was sitting on the ground with one leg stretched out on front of her and the other tucked under her, so he settled beside her. "It's over, Rose," he said softly. "You're safe."

She blinked a little, smiled a little, looked at him in wonder. "Tom…" she whispered.

He reached out and touched her face, brushing at a smear of dirt on her cheekbone. "My dear, lovely Rose."

At his touch, she drew in a trembling breath; her expression was soft and warm and filled with ardent affection. Emotion seemed to overwhelm her and tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

"No, no, let's not have any tears," he murmured, then leaned to kiss her. His mouth caressed hers gently, and then he stopped to look at her. The fear and anxiety seemed to have dissipated completely and now she looked at him with breathtaking sweetness and something more. Taking hold of her heavy braid of red hair, he untied the dark ribbon and slowly began to unravel it. He smiled at her as he ran his fingers through the thick tresses as they were freed from the braid, and her breathing became more rapid. "Tell me if I move too fast for you, my sweet," he asked softly.

A little nod and her wide eyes watched as he reached to unbutton her loose white shirt. His fingers brushed against her collarbone and over her shoulders as he pushed it off. Underneath, she wore another shirt, but this one was fitted. Now that the loose shirt was off, he could see the outline of her breasts underneath and he felt his mouth go dry. He knew that this was no place to lie with a lady, not on the forest floor; unfortunately, he dared not take her back to that shack for fear of rousing unpleasant memories. No choice really: he pulled off his own shirt and, after brushing away some of the pinecones, spread it over the ground, which was soft and springy with the fallen pine needles. Her shirt joined his and then he turned back to her.

There was no mistaking her assent and the desire in her expression, but she was heartbreakingly vulnerable and his need was nothing in comparison to that first night in Kingston. Thus, he was determined to take his time. Amid slow kisses, he slipped off her shoes, the loose trousers, fitted shirt and finely woven drawers she wore, until his eyes and hands ran over her naked body as she lay back on the white shirts.

A vague thought took shape as he explored each of her soft curves, the thought that he had been near the mark when he imagined her nerves had been stretched to the breaking point. Unlike the fiery woman who had made bold love with him only a few days ago, today she allowed him the mastery and merely responded pliantly to whatever he did. He was aware that she must be nearly exhausted after so much worry and fear, and he hoped that he could please her now, make her forget her troubles and help her to relax and afterwards sleep a little.

Even as he trailed kisses down her throat and stroked her hip and thigh, he knew that she was at last free of the death sentence and could give herself freely. That no bar now stood to their engagement and that the extraordinary difficulties she had endured had been overcome. He had some knowledge of what she liked and how he should touch her, and he took time and care to make love to her. It took longer for her to relax and warm to his ministrations, and he knew he had been right, that she had been pushed very far and had worn herself to the bone. Strong she was, and fierce, but also soft and vulnerable. He loved and admired her more than he could express even to himself.

Slowly and gently, he loved her under the spreading limbs of the pine tree without any concern about keeping quiet. Arching up to him, wrapped around him, the lady found the blessed release she had needed and cleansing tears flowed from the corners of her eyes. The comprehension they shared allowed him to see that she was not weeping in sorrow but rather in joy. The whole experience, both with the evidence that freed her and the act of joining with her beloved, performed a catharsis on much of the terrible fear and pain she had suffered. Purged of the fruits of her father's crimes, she was finally able to share herself without reserve.

Her Tom had been true and loyal through everything and had proved himself a fine, gentle man, as well as a gentleman, over and over. The deluge of emotion overwhelmed her and afterwards as they lay spent in each other's arms, she sobbed as though her heart was breaking. Tears came to his own eyes as he held her tightly against him, for his own tender heart was affected to see her grief and pain. Completely exhausted in body and mind, she eventually slept deeply in the cool shade, and he dozed as well, feeling that all was finally well in the world.


	28. Like a Restless Wind

**Like a Restless Wind**

The day's work had been backbreaking, but spirits were high, and all the men were relaxed and merry. Some had gone hunting, and now the wild goats they had killed were dressed and roasting on makeshift spits erected in pits on the high points of the beach. An extra ration of grog had been doled out and the men were clustered, laughing and enjoying the leisure, telling what they would do with their shares.

As darkness fell, however, Jack began to frown and Mowett grew uncharacteristically serious as he glanced more and more often towards the darkening tree line. Although still grumpy and taciturn, Allen paced restlessly, lips pursed and browns lowered in a thunderous expression.

"We know for a fact that it isn't possible for another ship to land here," said Jack to the other in private. "And all others are present and accounted for. I doubt a few rogue goats have done both of them in."

"Perhaps they decided to read Flint's papers," Mowett suggested. "Now that the light's going, they'll show up any time now."

"Or perhaps they merely wanted some time alone," Stephen said aloud, echoing the indelicate thought they all shared.

"More than likely," Jack answered coolly. "But damned imprudent to be out there after dark!"

"Sir! Sir!"

Along the beach, dirty, disheveled, grinning Tom strode carrying a weathered wooden box with equally unkempt Rose skittering alongside him excitedly. The unusual sight caused a pause in the merry activity as both crew and officers watched their approach.

"Old Flint's papers, sir," Tom reported as he set the box down on the officers' trestle table.

"And that's my last contribution to this mission," the lady sighed in mock fatigue. "From now on, this is a pleasure cruise for me!"

Even though the lieutenant and the lady were not even looking at each other, the physical attraction between them, like some powerful magnetic force, affected all of them and left no doubt to anyone what they had been doing that afternoon. As cheerful and good-natured as ever, the first officer seemed vested in rapture. Whatever fears and anxiety had plagued Rose on their journey had evaporated. The quiet, introspective widow with the death sentence hanging over her who had come aboard in the chill of England's spring was gone. Tonight, dressed in a men's trousers and shirt with her red hair tumbled loose down her back and snapping dark eyes, she showed them something of what Flint had been like in his youth, something of the high-spirited, vivid people he and Lily had.

"Have you read them?" asked the captain as he took the top off the box and peered in.

"No. I just looked at one letter to be sure it was what we were after." She grinned roguishly. In another woman, such an expression might have seemed wanton or vulgar; however, the lady's frank openness and simple friendliness rendered her wicked brilliance both charming and attractive.

There in front of them all, Jack had the box set in a larger crate and nailed shut just as the treasure had been. This most valuable bit of Flint's legacy would not leave his sight, and there it sat on their trestle table. By then, the men were passing round platters of roasted meat and settling down to their meal. The aroma was heavenly, and there was time only to wash their hands before dinner. Soon they were all enjoying the fresh island fare. Eating the richly flavored meat, savoring their drinks, reflecting on the _Surprise_'s hold full of coins, gold, and jewels, all, save one, were blithe and full of good will. As the evening deepened, the sailing master grew increasingly morose. Later, when the men were dancing and the gentlemen took their coffee, the unhappy Mr. Allen strolled off down the beach by himself.

"I shall go speak to him," Rose said quietly to Tom and went after him, following to where Mr. Allen had sat on one of the rocks far along the beach. He must have heard her approach but he did not turn to look at her as she settled down near him and drew her knees up. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she looked up at the stars and the waning sliver of moon.

"I was not a pirate though I sailed with them," she told him. "I was never one for violence or guns and still am not. It was freedom and the sea that drew me to that life, for it was how I was raised.."

There was no response. She waited a little, wondering what he was thinking before continuing. "I was punished for my crimes, which were youthful stupidity and foolishness, never piracy. I was with child when they arrested me. I had given up that life and gone on to marry an honest sea-captain. Well, it is the regret of my life. That child, a girl, she came too early. So I lost a daughter and went to prison immediately after. There I was judged guilty by association, convicted, condemned, and very nearly hanged."

"I lost a brother," he finally said.

"By Flint's hand?"

"Aye," he said through gritted teeth, speaking with difficulty. "He and his swabs. They… nailed his feet to the deck. With spikes. Then they whipped him. He was still alive when they began cutting him to pieces. Fingers first, ears … I don't know how long it took him to die."

His words grieved her although she had suspected as much. There was nothing to be said, no comfort to be given, no apology or reparation to be made. "I am sorrier than I can express," she said quietly.

Silent and not moving, he sat staring into the sea.

"I witnessed something else equally grisly, but only once," she admitted. "It was not within my power to save the life of the poor wretch, so I did the only other thing to prevent it. I shot him dead before they had their sport with him."

"You were witness to such torture?"

"Just that once."

He frowned at her, thoughts running though his head and expression crossing his face.

"They did not like my interference, but they were afraid of my father and thus feared me by association just as the magistrates had judged me guilty." She heaved a great sigh and stretched her legs out in front of her. "I can't make any excuses for my father, but I can say one thing. Lawless and audacious as he was, while my mother was alive, he was fair and even merciful. The hideous cruelty came later, when she had passed on and I had been sent to England. When I returned, I hardly knew him. That, and the rum had taken hold of him.

"I couldn't bring myself to kill him, for I recalled the man I had known in my childhood. I couldn't kill them all anyway. Well, it was the straw that broke the back of my proverbial camel, and I deserted, jumped ship and ran away with an honest man who married me."

She looked over at him, but he was again staring at the sea, frowning and weighing her words. "He was a monstrous villain. I never saw him or spoke to him again, and I gave evidence against him. Nothing can ever remove the past or bring back those we have lost. Take your share, though, and do some good in memory of your brother. And I hope you will not think so ill of me as time passes. I imagine you would not have acted so differently if you had been in my position."

Leaving him to his solitude, she went back up the beach to where the sailors were raucously celebrating their good fortune.


	29. Trapped

My dear Bean02, there's a lot yet to happen... but, please send brownies asap - I'm kinda hungry. :-D  
Flossy, thanks - don't worry about the ending yet. More drama and mortal danger ahead!  
Krees-tee-nah, thank you for taking the time to read and write such a detailed review. :-) Your right when you point out that description is my weak point. I sometimes think it's because I can see the action so clearly in my mind, but it's probably because I'm too lazy and just want to get to the action. If I ever take this story as a whole and revamp/edit/fine-tune, I'll be sure to develop more detailed description.  
Legrace, you and Finrod taught me _everything_ about writing. I am honored to learn at the feet of greatness!

Well, any thoughts about a happy or bittersweet ending?

More quotes:

'…He brought a message from young Mowett, taken in Peacock and wounded, but doing well in New York .'  
They talked of Mowett, a most engaging young man with a literary turn, and Stephen recited some of his verse….  
_The Fortune of War _

A muffled thump, the door flew open, Pullings and Mowett walked in, very fine in their roastbeef coats, and pleasant it was to see their frank, open delight at finding their old shipmate Babbington. They had all three been midshipmen in Jack's first command; they had sailed together in some of his later ships; and although Babbington, the youngest, was already a commander and likely to be made a post-captain in a year or two, and the others were only lieutenants and likely to remain in that rank for the rest of their lives unless they had the luck to take part in a successful action, there was not the least sign of jealousy, nor of any repining at a system that, with merit roughly equal, would probably make Babbington a comfortably-housed admiral by the end of his career while they lived on a half-pay of a hundred and nine pounds ten shillings a year. The only word that showed any awareness at all came late in the cheerful meal, when Jack, having observed that if this breeze held and that if the transport did not keep them hanging about at Palermo they should make an amazingly brisk passage, asked, 'Who has the Polyphemus now?'

No one knew. A Transport Agent or even a Transport Commander was a desperately obscure person, outside all hope of promotion, almost outside the service. 'Some broken-winded old lieutenant, I dare say,' said Pullings, and then with a wry grin he added, "Not but what I may be precious glad to hoist a plain blue pennant and command a transport myself, one of these days.'  
_The Ionian Mission_

He was smiling openly when Stephen walked in, looking shrewish. Like many large, florid, good-natured men, Jack Aubrey was afflicted with an undue proportion of small pale, meager friends of a shrewish turn.  
_The Ionian Mission_

'But,' said Jack, 'so many have passed since the beginning of the war, and so many have been made lieutenants, that now there are more on the list than there can be employment for, let alone promotion; so some years ago men of no particular family found they were being left on shore. They had not passed for gentlemen, and they did not possess the friends or connections that could make interest doe them, though sometimes they were capital seamen. Tom Pullings could not find a ship for a great while: and of course no ship, no promotion. I did my best, naturally, but I was away much of the time, and anyhow one scheme after the other came to nothing: just before they gave me the _Worcester_ I took him to dine at Slaughter's with Rowlands of the _Hebe_, who had lost a lieutenant overboard. they got along well enough, but afterwards Rowlands told me he did not choose to have anyone on his quarterdeck who did not say balcóny, and unfortunately poor Tom had said bálcony. It is the old story of the gentleman captains and the tarpaulins all over again.'….

'Your ideal is a gentleman who is also a seaman?'

'I suppose so. But that would exclude Cook and many other men of the very first rate. As a rough rule it might answer for the common run, but it seems to me that your really good sea-officer is always an exceptional being, and one that ordinary rules scarcely apply to. Tom Pullings, for example: he may not be another Howe or Nelson, but I am quite certain he would make a far better captain than most – we do not often have occasion to talk of balconies at sea….'  
_The Ionian Mission_

…Mr Pullings, or the Maiden as the Kutaliotes called him because of his mild face and gentle manners….  
_The Ionian Mission_

Much of the night he spent on deck, watching the clouds scud from the north as he passed up and down, irritating the harbour-watch and absolutely terrifying Mowett as he crept back from a venereal assignation…  
_The Ionian Mission_

What particularly grieves me is that it will put it even farther out of my power to do anything for Tom Pullings. If he is ever to be promoted commander _and employed in that rank_, it must be tolerably soon; for no one wants a greybeard in a sloop of war, nor even a man of thirty-five.  
_The Ionian Mission_

**

* * *

**

**Trapped**

Early morning on the island held a fine mist when the heat of the water, sand, and earth met the cool night air, and Jack put on his coat before going to take a look at the weather. After nodding good morning to those who were already up, he scanned the sky and judged that there would be no weather change. He had no need of a barometer to tell him that: any real sailor could tell. The high tide would come mid-afternoon and there was time enough for a meal ashore before a leisurely transfer back to the ship.

As he contemplated wind, tide, and weather, he caught sight of someone making his way towards the camp from the east. With a dark frown of disapproval, he turned to watch as his dependable lieutenant escorted the lady: both of them were wet-haired and dressed in clean clothes while carrying their bundled laundry with them. No doubt they had gone to bathe in the pools of fresh water at the foot of the waterfalls. His expression became even more sour as they came closer, for he grew angrier to see that neither of them even feigned embarrassment.

"Good morning, sir," they greeted, and the two of them looked at him with interest as if they wondered at the cause of his obvious displeasure on such a fine day. "The lady wished to take advantage of the early hour and have a bathe before the men were up and about," explained Tom without even a flicker of shame.

"Ma'am, will you excuse us?" Jack said stiffly.

"Yes, of course." She looked back and forth between them in confusion before leaving them.

First, he stood there looking at Tom, wondering how such a fine man and sterling officer could behave in such a profligate manner. It must have been the woman, of course, who had lead poor Tom astray. "This is most improper," he said quietly so as not to be overheard.

The lieutenant looked at him with such wide-eyed, innocence that Jack began to think that they had just been bathing in privacy. "Oh, no, sir. She did not wish to wake the doctor, so I was sentry so she could bathe in peace without one of the men stumbling upon her. It was all quite proper. Well, as proper as is possible in such a place."

"Be that as it may, there'll be no more of this. I'll not have the ship degenerate into little more than a bawdy house. I've known you many years, Tom, and I never thought to see you play the cad and expose a lady to such talk.

His face flushed in shame. Certainly if the captain had heard the men's talk then it must be very bad.

When he saw the other man's terrible shock, Jack pitied him and his anger evaporated. "Now, you said that you made the lady an offer and that she has accepted. When do you intend to marry? For you cannot carry on this way."

Knowing that his actions had injured his lady's reputation tormented the poor man. "No, sir. I would have taken her to church in Kingston, but she wished to wait till her part in this mission was over. I have behaved badly, sir."

Jack nodded slowly and sighed. "Very well. We shall salvage what we may, and the men seem to hold her in some esteem. Speak to her and see when she will agree to – "

A loud call interrupted them, "Sir!" One of the younger midshipmen, out of breath, came running. "You're to come right away. Two ships, sir. Two sails."

"_What_?" Jack asked aghast. Men had overheard the boy's cry and were appearing to hear what was being said.

"Two ships off the windward side of the island, sir," the youngster gasped still trying to regain his breath. He raised his arm and pointed up to the cliffs on the east. "We climbed up for a look round."

"Fetch my glass," Jack called to one of the ship's boys. Everyone seemed to be awake now and all attention was on the captain. "Mr. Mowett, Mr. Allen, we must transfer back to the ship as quickly as we may. Mr. Pullings, let us take a look – Mrs. Stirling, will you not join us?"

It was a command rather than a question, and she nodded, looking pale and wide-eyed. The sleepy morning was soon a memory as the sounds of bustling activity filled the still-cool air. Jack set off with the others following the midshipmen who had sighted the two sails and hoped that this was all easily explained.

* * *

The officers met in the captain's cabin directly after luncheon, for they had all seen not two but three ships lying in wait for them – one of them being the Walrus. Through their telescopes, they had been able to study the pirates and count the overwhelming numbers against them. A little apart from the others, Rose sat looking pale and motionless as one turned to stone. The change in her had been swift: from merry, devil-may-care to stunned. As she sat there in silence, the men discussed the situation and searched for options. 

Stephen studied their serious, worried expressions as they went back and forth, discussing and disagreeing, trying to come up with some plan. As of yet, they had agreed only on one thing: that they had time on their side. There was plenty of food and fresh water on the island. If only there had been an endless supply of grog, they could have held out indefinitely, he thought with a wry grin.

"There may be a chance to even the odds," Jack mused aloud. "The Walrus is badly-handled and without discipline. You all saw it."

"Poor discipline or not, we cannot stand to battle with _three_ ships," said Allen. "We'd be badly outgunned."

"Not if we take the _Walrus_," said Jack. He gazed at each of them with a glint in his eye.

"Sir, they will know that we can only depart at high tide," said Tom. "They'll be ready and waiting for us."

"Which is why we'll do it at low tide. A small party will row out under the cover of darkness. Mrs. Stirling can dictate the specifics of the ship, and she has also assured me that they'll set no watch and will likely be in their cups. If we could take the Walrus out of commission, we should be able to handle the other two."

They all stared at him in silence; for an uncomfortable minute, the only sound was the gentle slosh of the water against the ship. "Forgive me, sir, but such a mission is suicide," said Mr. Allen quietly.

"If we wait long enough, one of them, at least, will have to go for supplies," Stephen suggested.

"And more might come, and then we'll have no chance," Tom sighed.

Jack sat back in his chair. "They won't be expecting us at night, and we have another point in our favor: rum."

"Perhaps…" Rose said slowly. "Perhaps the captain is right." It was the first thing she had said.

"Yes?" Jack prodded.

She was frowning and biting her lip as she considered it. "They won't be prepared for boarders at night. That, and we know their weakness as well."

"Rum," Mowett supplied.

"As I said," reminded Jack.

"Besides that," she continued. "Those men are brave and ruthless despite their lawless ways, but they're a gang of the silliest fishwives when it comes to superstition. There'll be no man aboard there who hasn't got a mortal fear of Flint – or his spirit."

As they were turning over this idea and silently examining it for usefulness, Stephen spoke up. "Do these superstitious fellows know of the skeletons guarding the cavern?"

First she nodded a little with her eyes unfocused and her mind far away. Getting up, she paced to the stern and gazed out the open window at the turquoise lagoon and the white sand. "They will be very afraid. And we… well, we may use it to our advantage."

"What do you suggest?" asked Jack, looking at her uncertainly.

Unconsciously, she folded her arms tightly and began to pace. "Those ill-gotten gains were set there years ago. Six men rowed my father and I ashore, and we were eight in all who set it in the cave." With a deep, resigned sigh, she shook her head. "He killed them all. Every man. That is why there are six skeletons, because he wouldn't leave a man alive who knew where it was hidden. Dead men cannot speak of what they know." Shivering a little, even in the heat, she hugged herself even more tightly. "Of course, he lead the rest of the men to believe that I had taken part in the murders, for he wanted them all to fear me as they did him." She turned to look seriously at Jack. "And they do. Well, almost as much."


	30. Images of Broken Light

**

* * *

**

Images of Broken Light

After luncheon, the Captain spent a long time in his cabin with Mr. Pullings and Mrs. Stirling. The men whispered among themselves that the pirates were there for their share in Old Flint's treasure. Others said that it was the curse of the evil spirits who had guarded the treasure come to wreak revenge on the men of the _Surprise_ for daring to disturb it. To that, some argued that since they had buried the skeletons with a prayer, there was no curse. Of course, the skeletons were the Earthly remains of seafaring men and thus should have gone to at sea. Clearly, men were shaken and worried, but for the most part they still trusted their captain and few spoke against him.

Stephen did not attend the meeting, and he wondered at it. Was Jack insisting that they marry at such a time? At times, he embodied such priggish hypocrisy that it amused Stephen, but he could not imagine him breaching such a delicate subject now. On the other hand, the taking of the _Walrus_ was to wait another night when the moon would be dark, and perhaps Jack was attempting some kind of distraction. It simply did not seem like something he would do; therefore, Stephen wondered and waited.

When they finally emerged from the Great Cabin, Rose went straight to her own cabin without speaking to anyone and Tom came up on deck but said nothing of what had been discussed. From his uncharacteristically grim expression, it was plain to see that he did not like what had been decided. Had the lady refused to honor their engagement?

When he entered Jack's cabin for dinner, Stephen asked if the lady would attend. "I think not," replied his friend. "She is preparing her letters and papers before we enter into dangerous action."

The implication shocked Stephen. "You cannot mean to allow her to – "

"Were there another way, I wouldn't." Jack shook his head and muttered an oath. "The evidence, the papers, must be taken to safety. Everything is secondary to that. If she's right, and she has been thus far, then there's a chance, a good chance. If we don't even the odds, they'll come gunning for us, and as I told you weeks ago, the only way to accomplish their task is to leave no survivors."

Well, obviously he had been quite wrong about Jack insisting that the pair be married right away. "Was all that time this afternoon spent convincing you?"

"A fair bit of it," admitted Jack, "though she took the most convincing, for she did not want Pullings along with her."

"Are they to go together?" asked Stephen, wondering how wise it was.

"He refused to have it any other way." With a huge sigh, Jack poured himself some more wine and took a swallow. "Oh, how the two of them go at one another, haggling and tempers flaring! Poor Tom! What an unfortunate match he's made."

The doctor, who saw nothing unfortunate at all in the situation (quite the contrary), made no comment. "Would such a wife be a detriment to a man in his position?"

Jack considered it for a minute. "It is difficult to say. It very well might be the last nail in the coffin, for he's unlikely to ever make captain. However…" He swirled his wine and sipped once, then again. "Admiral Bellows is a powerful friend. If she could convince him to support Pullings for her sake, it might make all the difference."

"I cannot imagine her doing such a thin."

"Nor I," sighed Jack. "No, if he does marry her, poor Tom may well end his life as a half-pay lieutenant."

* * *

Midmorning, while making an entry into his diary in his eccentric shorthand, Stephen was surprised by Rose's entrance into his cramped office. Though dressed again in her proper summer gown and with her hair pinned up, she looked weary and dark smudges beneath her eyes indicated that she had slept very little if at all. In her hand, she carried a stack of letters tied both around the middle and lengthwise with a ribbon. "May I ask you to hold these for me in safekeeping?" she asked without any preamble. 

No stranger to the practice, for officers especially gave items of value to the keeping of their comrades before they went into battle, Stephen found himself filled with terrible sadness and regret at the situation. Despite her rather dramatic faults and flaws, he was immensely fond of the lady and admired her a bit more than he cared to admit. Rarely in his life had he ever had the pleasure of knowing women who had not become disenchanted with life. Something happened to a woman's face when she reached a certain stage in her life, though the actual age varied, and a combination of disappointment, resignation, surrender, and bitterness affected her appearance. The very few who avoided this fate could reach old age without losing remarkable beauty despite wrinkles and white hair.

He wondered how ardent Rose had avoided it in the face of such hardship and tragedy, but he answered his own question: she lived as one whose veins seems to run with red wine rather than blood. She very well could have remained in England after leaving school. Then, she would have likely married and set up housekeeping, which would have been a slow, sad decline into matronhood for one so spirited. No, the fiery offspring of a pirate and a gentlewoman had followed in her parents' footsteps: she had escaped the fate that had been decided for her by others and had carved her own life despite pain and adversity. With a deep melancholy, he wondered would Rose, indomitable and unafraid, would _she_ fade and weaken if Pullings were killed and she survived?

To her, he said only, "Of course, my dear."

"There is nothing of value I own save the _Calypso_, which will pass to the boys of course. They will become wards of Captain Hawkes who has been a great friend of mine and Richard's many years." With a little shrug, she added, "These papers will explain everything."

"I shall never have to open them nor deliver these letters," he assured her. "For I shall certainly return them to you by tomorrow nightfall."

A tiny smile trembled on her lips. "By the stars, I hope you are right."

* * *

The middle of the graveyard watch found all the officers of the _Surprise_ awake and on deck as the gig was lowered over the side. Eight men had been chosen to row out over the reef and into the open sea; they counted themselves lucky that the current would be with them. All of them were heavily armed and wore plain civilian clothes. 

The captain had a last few words with Pullings and Mrs. Stirling. Once again in her loose trousers and shirt, the lady now wore a heavy belt which held a massive knife in a sheath and two pistols of excellent quality. A smaller sword belt held a light blade at her hip, and she wore an old fashioned tricorn with a black plume. Under her arm she carried a parcel, some faded sailcloth rolled up neatly, and to Stephen, she looked the role. Of course, she had a certain piratical air that made her so appealing to sailors, but now she looked dangerous. He wondered if it was merely the weapons or something more, some unease at her quiet air of confidence and efficiency.

Before departing, Rose approached Mr. Allen, and he nodded politely to acknowledge her. "It well may be that we will not have the opportunity to speak again," she said. "I hope that whatever happens, you will take your share of Flint's blood money and do some good with it. I fear most of these men will drink up their shares in a fortnight."

At first he did not reply and stood frowning at her. Then he drew in a breath. "Ma'am, if I have misjudged you…"

"Not at all," she said quickly. "You have seen me plain without the genteel façade. No, you have seen the truth, the worst of me along with the best."

Slowly he nodded, and as they stood looking at each other, a sad little smile passed over the lady's features. Never again would he regale her with his sea yarns, nor ask her opinion on the set of the sails, nor yet come over to chat with her on the quarterdeck. No, the past could not be recaptured: there was too much painful knowledge between them to return to those carefree, merry days. Perhaps a mutual respect would develop over time, but the abrupt severing of their friendship hurt her keenly and it showed. "Farewell, sir. Gods grant we shall meet again."

"Good luck, ma'am," he replied with slight awkwardness.

Stephen stood waiting by the rail with the bosun who was to help her climb over. Embracing her and kissing her upon both cheeks, he said, "Good luck to you, and may the angels watch your every step."

The lady could not help a smile. "Farewell, Stephen, and thank you for being such a true friend." Then, she handed him her little roll of sailcloth and went over the side before taking it back and climbing down to the waiting gig. They pushed off in the darkness and there was the quiet sound of oars and water as they moved away until they disappeared into the darkness and the night grew quiet once again.

* * *


	31. The Taking of the Walrus

I am feeling much better, thank you.

My dear Bean02, I am sorry for forgetting to reply before. I haven't seen _the Muppets'_ _Treasure Island_. I'm sure it's hilarious!  
I have seen many serious versions of the book, though most of them didn't interest. The one good version is from 1990, with a young  
and adorable Christian Bale as Jim Hawkins, and Charlton Heston as Long John Silver. There were a ton of famous actors in it,  
including Oliver Reed, Christopher Lee, and Pete Postlethwaite. Some of the pirates names: Billy Bones, Black Dog, Blind Pew,  
Israel Hands. Very imaginative names. And the music was done by the Chieftains!

I can't take credit for the titles of the chapters. Some come from an old song thatis reflected very much in Rose's outlook and  
reactions. On the other hand, I can't stand reading song lyrics in fiction, though, (too much like a high-school-crush for my taste)  
so I use snippets as titles here and there to help me keep "the mood" and try and keep it from getting too melodramatic or schmaltzy.

I apologize to Flossy and everyone on the "cliffhanger" way of leaving the chapters; it's not my intention to evoke anticipation.  
To tell you the truth, I only have a vague idea of what's going to happenin major events. The details take me a long time to hammer  
out. For instance, it took me a long, long time to decide who was going to be on the party to board the _Walrus_. I couldn't decide if  
Tom should go or not, but finally I had to make a decision, and I did, but I only plan one scene ahead, so even _**I**_ don'tknow what's  
going to happen after the next scene.

Anyway, it's not useful for me to write long chapters because I need to get so many things "right" that I would never be satisfied and  
would keep gong back and changing things, which would mean changing other things…. A big old chain reaction. It's better to get  
one difficult scene down there and finished before tackling another hard scene, if you see what I mean.

**

* * *

**

The Taking of the _Walrus_

Without the moon, the thick darkness made rowing difficult, but the light of the seemingly infinite stars aided them. The towering cliffs of the island blocked some of the lights, but the rowing was easy. Once they were out of the inlet and in the open sea, the men were forced to row harder, but it was easier to see the three ships circling like menacing birds of prey. Both Tom and Rose caught sight of the _Walrus_ at the same time; not too far south-southeast and heading due north about as slow as she could, hardly seeming to move. Although they needed no quiet yet, Tom's orders were given in a low voice and they turned east to intercept her. The other two ships were not far but in the dark of the moon, there was little threat of discovery.

Rose's hand slipped into his; gently, he squeezed and held hers. Ever closer they drew, though their journey already seemed to be endless because of nerves being stretched taut and pulled tight. Rose had insisted that there would be no watch set, no sentry, just a pair of half-drunken men to keep the _Walrus_ on course and to keep each other awake. Certain, she had been certain, certain enough to bet her life and to now gamble with the lives of the men as well as the life of her lover. For herself she was not afraid. The same was true for him: Tom was afraid not for himself but for her.

Tension mounted as they drew near the frigate. Her dark bulk grew as they closed in, obliterating the heavy stars hanging low in the sky. No alarm, no calls announced their approach, and the powerful strokes of the oarsmen drew them up alongside. Two of them passed their oars to others and stood to grasp the man-ropes on either side of the shallow steps that lead up the side. The gig bumped once, lightly, against the hull with a dull thud, and they all held their breath for a long couple of minutes.

When Rose squeezed Tom's hand, they looked one another full in the face; even in the darkness, there was sadness and comprehension between them. Neither spoke: there was nothing to be said, for both knew well enough what thoughts, hopes, and emotions the other held in mind. They kissed once and shared a smile and a silent farewell. After that, Rose stood up carefully and moved to grasp one of the man-ropes with her left hand. Pausing, she slid her heavy knife from its sheath, and in amazement, Tom thought she meant to hold it in her teeth, buccaneer style, as she stole up and boarded the ship. Instead, she slid it back into place, and he knew that she had merely been checking that it was loose enough to draw quickly. Without any other hesitation, she clambered up the side and made no perceptible noise.

Once she reached the top, she peered over the railing and waited before climbing over and disappearing from view. It was the signal to begin counting and Tom silently started on his way to one hundred.

_One… two… three… four…_

He counted, keeping his mind alert and clear from worry. Upwards he stared, waiting, heart pounding, as the numbers slowly passed…

…_twenty-three… twenty-four… twenty-five…_

One of the men coughed as quietly as possible, but Tom ignored him. Nothing yet, no sign of trouble. He counted and waited, heartbeat even louder…

…_fifty-eight… fifty-nine… sixty… sixty one…_

The ship shifted infinitesimally. His heart stopped for an instant, and then he felt as if painful shards of glass had been released into his veins. Had she succeeded? There was no sound, no cry or shout, no calls or alarms. Had she done it?

…_seventy-nine… eighty… eighty-one… eighty-two…_

Endless, endless, the numbers seemed! She was beyond help now, either successful or slain. His breathing had grown short and sharp. Every tense muscle, every tightly-wound nerve ached for release…

…_ninety-one… ninety-two… ninety-three…_

Nearly… nearly. And then…

…_one hundred._

Tom climbed up the side quickly and carefully. When he reached the top, he scanned the deck. He caught sight of Rose at the helm, but there was no one else on deck. First, he gave the men waiting below the signal to tie the gig to the man-ropes and join him. Then he leapt lightly over the railing and cautiously began to make his way over to her. Almost immediately, he found the first of her kills: a man lying face-up with his eyes and mouth wide-open and blood still oozing from his jugular.

The Surprises were following him he could tell, not from their footsteps, for they were moving with stealth, but from the slight rustling they made. The _Walrus_ was a fine, well-made ship but ill-kept and slovenly. With a disapproving eye, Tom saw the peeling paint, loose lines, misplaced equipment, and haphazard securing of the boats. The crew was obviously lazy and the captain incompetent. He had known that pirates had little discipline, but he imagined one as successful as Old Flint had run a tighter ship than this.

The second body was crumpled next to the wheel. "Get those bodies overboard but quietly," he instructed. "Cooper, take the helm."

The grayness of predawn had begun to creep up on them, and one of the men handed Rose her bundle of sailcloth before going to help with the bodies. They timed it so the splashes would occur almost simultaneously because two splashes would be more likely to rouse any of the crew who might be awake. Many fish and sea creatures splashed in the sea, and the sound would raise no alarm.

As soon as there was enough light, the men went up to unfurl and tack the sails. Since they did not yet want to wake the _Walrus_'s crew, no orders were shouted and only gestures were used. Not long passed before the wind filled the sails and the ship jumped forward to run up the windward side of the island. Round the narrow northernmost point they turned west and then south. Now the breeze was gentler and the sun lit the morning as they made their way down the leeward side of the island, safe from the other ships. The sails were then trimmed and furled to reduce speed, and soon they were cruising leisurely southward on the west coast of the island. They would sail right round and come to the south again.

"Now for the captain," said Tom with a glint of anticipation in his eyes. On the _Walrus_, the entrance to the captain's quarters was just below the quarterdeck, and cocking one of his pistols, he took two men with him.

Rose waited aft, at the rail, and there were voices, not over-loud, so it was impossible to judge the speakers' tones. In the morning light, she watched the deep blue of the sea and the merry dance of the waves. There was time, and she drew in a deep breath, then another and several more while recollections of other times and places lingered in her mind. When she heard them coming, she turned to regard the man who had been elected captain after her father's death.

Gerald Bantam was hastily dressed and looking sullen and angry as Tom lead him at pistol point. When he saw the lady's face, his eyes and mouth opened in shock. He was about fifty with graying hair and a weathered brown face. His eyes were somehow sly and calculating but also intelligent; now his whole face was honestly surprised to see the woman he recognized.

"Good morning, Mr. Bantam," she said with incongruous politesse. "Do you know who I am?"

"Aye, to be sure, you're Flint's gel as ever was," he replied breathlessly, still appearing stunned by the sight. "The Crimson Rose."


	32. Needs Killin'

The following quotation is from one of the movie versions of _Treasure Island_.

Dick: "But what about the captain? And Squire Trelawney? What are we to do about them, anyhow?"  
Israel Hands: "We'll cut their throats for 'em, we will. Besides, there's some of them needs killin', say I."  
John Silver: "Israel's right, lad. Dead men tell no tales."

Legrace: I heard a quote by SK that his writing is the literary equivalent of a Big Mac and fries. Eww! _shudders _Leo Tolstoy he is not! But then, who is? ;-)

**

* * *

**

Needs Killin'

Onboard the _Walrus_, several long hours had passed since the boarding party from the _Surprise_ had taken the ship. Nearly midmorning and sailing south along the western coast of the island, Tom Pullings noted in distaste that the lazy crew was still abed and the next watch had not come on deck without being roused. The whole crew, every man, was taking the opportunity to steal more sleep and thus leaving the ship vulnerable.

Rose stood facing Captain Gerald Bantam who had been first mate to her father. There had been little chance that she would survive this action without the men discovering her felonious heritage, and the captain's remarks had exposed her secret. No way to avoid it, really; now, she had to deal with this man on terms he would understand.

"Sir, I am taking this ship. Temporarily. You may be for me or you may be against me, but when you hear what I have to say, you may agree to aid me."

"Take the ship?" he repeated as a look of anger and stubbornness filled his eyes. "By thunder, I'll skin you from the neck! I'm cap'n here, by election."

"And you will be again after I have concluded my business. Or not." She drew out one of her pistols and cocked it, and the man's eyes followed the movements of her hands. "Whether you live or die matters not a whit to me, but you never crossed me, so I'll kill you myself instead of leaving you for Flint's spirit."

His eyes snapped up to hers in shock. "Flint's spirit?" he replied, looking shocked and frightened.

Without speaking, she regarded him soberly for several long seconds. "When I deserted, I swore I'd never return to this accursed ship and I meant it. Do you think I break that vow lightly? Do you think I'd be here, risking my life, for anything less?"

Dead pale, the man cast about with wide eyes as if the ghost of his old master would creep up behind him any instant.

"At the moment, he has no reason to spare a thought for you, unless you cross him," she warned. Then she turned to Tom. "Rouse the crew."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied calmly. "Clayton, Manning, that's all hands."

The two men replied, "Aye, sir," and moved down off the quarterdeck. "All hands on deck!" they bawled. "All hands on deck!"

The ensuing chaos was painful for the naval men to watch. A hundred bleary-eyed men, many of them still half-drunk from the evening before, stumbled over each other to reach the deck. There was no great hurry and muttered oaths and obscenities was more the rule than the exception. Some of them came aware of the tall woman standing with Captain Bantam and stared agape. There were more than a few that recognized her, Tom could see. Keeping his expression cold and as fierce as he could, he silently prayed that she would be able to play her part to the end.

The staggering lines of men gathered with no apparent order. Rose waited until they had ceased most of their grumbling and looked up to the quarterdeck. When most of their attention was focusing, she leapt up on the railing and extended her left foot. Tugging a little on the leg of her loose tarry trousers, she showed them the little tattoo of a rose above her ankle. The sound of men's voices expressing disbelief and talking to each other matched the gaping expressions of the fools who stood staring at her like as many sheep.

"You know what that means," she remarked in a voice that seemed at once conversational yet carried to all of the men. "Some of you knew me in my youth. Some of you were my shipmates for many long years. I have my own ship now and two little nippers grown into fine seafaring lads. I have no reason to be here among you, and I was completely content until a few months ago."

There was absolute silence as they stared at her. Something in her voice, something both casual and threatening, compelled them to listen and remain quiet.

"You know Flint died badly – blue in the face as the rum took him. Once he was gone, his spirit still walked the Earth."

Some of the men shivered and a few made the sign of the cross. Now there was talk amongst them – quick furtive whispers and oaths of burgeoning fear and some disbelief.

"He first came to me in the dark of night." She paused and looked around at them with a serious light in her eyes. "I had not seen him in twelve years, and word of his death had not reached me. I was filled with fear. Imagine yourself alone and roused from sleep during the graveyard watch and waking to the sight and sound of Flint's ghost".

"He done cursed you when you jumped ship," called one grizzled old seadog with three yellowed teeth left in his mouth.

"he certainly did, and you may imagine, terror struck me. At first, I though he wanted to revenge himself on me. In life and in death, however, I am his child and he meant me no harm. At that moment, however, it was of little comfort to me. How difficult it was for me to recover!

"He waited for me to grow calm with his usual impatience and bad grace, and I did, eventually. That is when he told me why he had come. It was a simple thing, really: he wanted me to kill the Lubber."

Now, the reaction was louder and more widespread. Men were suffering from headaches and the fantastic story was making them ache even more.

"You know Flint had business with the Lubber. What you don't know is that shortly before his death, Flint discovered that he… that he had killed his first grandchild."

Her hesitation, the wavering her voice, had been instantaneous and not everyone noticed. In fact, Tom could see with grim satisfaction, the incredible news, the news of Flint, overshadowed almost all else.

"Maybe he thought that our estrangement meant that he could injure me and mine without Flint retaliating. Maybe the Lubber thought a girl child was worthless. Whatever his reason, the granddaughter was torn from me too early, the child called after his Lily. Now, Flint will have his revenge."

Again, there was silence. Having learned to assess the mood of a crew by mere observation, Tom thought they were overwhelmed by the information. The news that the sacrificed child had been called after Flint's beloved Lily seemed to affect them: they seemed to have sobered up with remarkable alacrity and now stood staring at the woman who had told the tale, the armed dangerous woman whom many of them had learned to fear.

"Flint will have his vengeance, I can assure you. Each man here has a decision to make: to stand with Flint's spirit or to stand against him. The Lubber has promised you riches and more, but he is marked for death and won't live to pay you. As for Flint, he laughs and sends you this message:  
_Not one man of his crew alive  
That went to sea with seventy-five_."

In the silence following, Tom could see they were, for the most part, terrified. It was true, she had been right: they feared Flint in life and in death. More than that, in his absence, the person of Rose Flint held the ability to motivate them by means of their own fear, and she was well aware of exactly how it could be accomplished.

"As for me, well, you know well enough that there's never been a man looked me between the eyes and seen a good day afterwards. I'll see you all to Davy Jones as easily as Flint would." Her hand went to the hilt of the light blade she wore. "Any man who stands against me, I'll pin him to the mast with this cutlass and hang him from the yardarm by his thumbs and use him for musket practice. Take a cutlass, him that dares, and I'll see the color of his inside."

With that, she glared at them, daring any of them to challenge her. Tom already had his pistols in his hands, but there was no challenge. The tale and the threats had worked. Whether it was fear of Flint or fear of Rose (or more probably a combination of both, he thought), he knew not, but they would follow her.  
For now, at least.


	33. The Crimson Rose

I have been filling our applications and writing essays for scholarships. The deadline for a big one was yesterday. I finished writing the essay and went to post it at about 8:00 PM, and it was already closed. I had thought it was until midnight. All that work down the drain! I was discouraged.

Bean 02 - Hans Zimmer? Is that the guy who did the music for _Miami Vice_?

**

* * *

**

The Crimson Rose

Nearly high the _Surprise_ weighed anchor, the men straining at the capstan to winch it off the sandy bottom. Despite being partly cloudy, the day was hot and when the sun broke through, it glanced dazzlingly off the water, the sand, and all the ship's surfaces.

"All hands make sail," Jack told Mowett. As his second lieutenant began to call out orders, Jack turned to the sailing master. "Mr. Allen, take us out of the bay."

"Aye, sir," said the older man with a salute, and when he had gone off, Jack was left alone with Stephen.

"Let's hope they were successful," he admitted to his friend.

"If they were, would you say our chances are even?" the doctor inquired calmly, as if it were a mere theoretical problem instead of a matter of life and death. _Our_ lives, Jack thought, _our_ deaths.

"It's hard to say for certain. With Tom in charge of the guns, they may be quite effective; however, if they're poorly trained, it could be disastrous. Still." His familiar grin turned up one corner of his mouth. "As long as the _Walrus_ is not against us, our odds are vastly improved."

Once the anchor had been hoisted and secured, the _Surprise_ was guided by the boats into the passage of the curving inlet. The topmen unfurled and trimmed the sails, and when a breeze caught them for a moment, the ship jumped forward a bit. The men in the boats rowed hard, pulling the ship towards the great slow curve that lead out to the open sea. The breeze was light here and weak, and it took effort to get underway.

Nigh on high tide, they caught a good stiff breeze and set steadily towards the reef; the men were able to stop rowing and climb back onboard the ship. As the towering cliffs on either side opened out, the wind grew more constant. Ahead was the open sea, but there was the reef to pass first and then the ships waiting in ambush.

As fast as they had been sailing when they had entered the bay, their progress now seemed to be in slow motion. Of course, the danger of crossing the reef at high speed was eliminated, but a serious, frowning Mr. Allen kept a tight rein on things. He knew what he was about, and soon they came to the last of the great curves in the bay and then the open sea stretched before them. As they passed over the deadly reef, they all held their breath.

Out of the bay, the strong wind from the south caught in the _Surprise_'s sails and she leapt forward with a tremendous shudder. The _Walrus_ was about six miles south and bearing due north. The other ships were both northward: the _Tenerife_ was turning southwards from the east, but the _Phoebe_, less than three miles away, was bearing down on them directly.

Knowing that hesitation would kill them all, Jack shouted out orders: to turn towards the _Phoebe_ and meet them head on. He studied the ship in his glass but swung around at the cry from above.

"Sir! Sir!" cried one of the topmen from the mainmast. "The _Walrus_, sir! See her colors!"

They all turned to see. As her sails were unfurled, pulled taut by the wind, and the sailcloth banner fluttered and then trailed out behind the big frigate: a dark red rose upon a plain field.

* * *

Overall, the ship and her crew disgusted Tom Pullings though he did not allow his feelings to show. The men were lazy, undisciplined, surly, and volatile, men motivated by fear or greed, or a combination of both. At the moment, they were afraid of Rose and terrified of Flint's ghost and thus were about as effective as they could be. Rose was playing her role expertly, but he knew that the crew could turn on them in an instant and without warning. 

Some of them had known her in the past, which was apparent from the way they looked at her. They knew her and feared her, feared what she was capable of. Most of all, they feared Flint and what would befall then if they disregarded his wishes and did not support her. He paid close attention to the crew, as did the eight men from the _Surprise_, for any dissenters would have to be dealt with swiftly.

Now, along with Rose and Captain Bantam, he took up his glass to study the other ships. The _Walrus_ raced northwards towards the _Surprise_, which had turned to face the _Phoebe_. "We can't catch them," he said aloud. "But we shall reach them before the _Tenerife_." To Captain Bantam, he asked, "How well-schooled are your men at firing the guns?"

"Best in the Spanish Main," he told them with a twinge of smug pride.

"Do you think the _Phoebe_ will be well away from the _Surprise_ by the time we reach them?" asked Rose.

With his expert eye, Tom estimated the speed of the ships and the angle of the wind; in an instant, he calculated the distance in his mind. "By more than two ship lengths," he answered. "More if she doesn't turn for another pass."

Morton, the first mate, joined them at the rail. He was a fair, handsome man of five-and-thirty with fine, almost beautiful, features. "Gun crews're ready," he announced, glaring insolently at Rose without disguising his dislike.

"Very well. Tom, we'll catch the _Phoebe_ with the larboard guns after she passes the _Surprise_. Then, we'll let the _Tenerife_ have it with the starboard before they realize we're against them."

"Against the _Phoebe_?" Morton, the first mate, was aghast.

"As I said," she told him with a cold stare of her own.

"By thunder, ye'll make a hash of this cruise, ye faithless bitch," he growled, ire overcoming good sense and the instinct for preservation.

"You'll be the first then, George Morton, you bloody damn fool." Without rushing, she drew out one of her pistols.

"No, wait." Tom stepped partially between them. "We can ill afford to lose any man who's not against Flint."

At almost the same time, a heavy marlinspike dropped to the deck and stuck fast about a hand's breadth from Morton's foot. The all glanced up, startled, but there was nothing to be seen save the billowing sails. The ethereal sound of laughter floated down to them, and the color drained from Bantam's face. "It's Flint! By the power!"

The four of them stood there on the quarterdeck looking at each other with pale, serious faces. "Blast it! I had hoped not to anger him!" said Rose.

Morton swallowed with a gulping noise and a trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face. "I sailed sixteen years with him," he told her. "Now, you know I'd never turn agin' Flint, Miss Rose, and he knows it as well," he said in a tone meant to placate, but his eyes were hard.

"That may be, but the next word of sauce I hear, I put a pistol shot in a man's head."

The murderous look that passed between them impressed Tom, and he knew in his bones that there was something between them. Before they had left the _Surprise_, he and Rose had worked out the scenario of his talking her out of shooting any pirates causing discord, and it had worked this once. They knew, both of them, and had known from the first, that there might be instances were they would have to murder some of the pirates in cold blood as a lesson to the others. This time it had been unnecessary; nevertheless, it was uncertain that the same trick would work again. The marlinspike had been a nice touch along with the ghostly laughter. Who had done it?

Old Bantam, still recovering from the terrible shock of Flint's interference, forced a laugh as Morton went back to the waist of the ship. "Ah, the years ain't banked his fire, eh, lass?"

She looked at him with brows lifted in an expression of disdain. "A bit more attention to the task at hand wouldn't go amiss just about now," she remarked, for they were hurtling towards the other ships. She went forward and down the steps. "Is this a Dutchman's barge with the sails all a'hoo?" she shouted up at some of the topmen's sloppy handling of the sails. "Trim that damn sail or I'll make you wish you had!"

At Tom's look of curiosity, the old pirate continued in a low, amused tone. "Yon lad was sweet on the gal nigh on thirteen years ago. A pretty young fellow he was, more'n now, and wenches was fallin' all over him. Ladies, even." He cackled at the thought. "And Miss Rose was some hellcat in those days. Put a musket ball in his arm one day and swore she'd shoot his balls off if he put a hand on her."

"Lover's spat?" asked Tom, attempting to sound vaguely interested and not at all jealous.

"Can't say that Flint would have allowed it."

He wanted to hear more, to discover what was between Rose and the handsome first mate, but there was no time. In only a few minutes he would set the guns blazing, and he knew he had to get below. With a glance to Rose, who was busy calling orders to the crew, he strode off to take command of the gun deck.

In this thing, the unruly pirates were well-schooled. The loading and priming of the big guns was not the chore he had envisioned, and as they raced closer to the _Phoebe_, he was satisfied and ready.

The _Phoebe_ had exchanged fire with the _Surprise_ and seemed hardly aware of the _Walrus_ barreling down on them, for in the ensuing chaos, her crew was totally unprepared for the full broadside from the _Walrus_. Most of the shot hit the mark, instantly crippling the smaller ship, and Tom bellowed at the men to get them over to the starboard guns double quick. They were changing course slightly, he could sense, to go after the _Tenerife_, which was not yet aware of the threat from the _Walrus_.

Easily, the heavy starboard guns caught them astern and all the way round the larboard side. Tom set the men to reload and ran up on deck to see what damage they had inflicted. The _Phoebe_ was badly damaged and listing quite a bit to the larboard having been hit first by the _Surprise_ and then almost point blank by the _Walrus_. The _Tenerife_ was coming around and the _Surprise_ had the wind of her: it was only a matter of time.

"Sail-ho!" called one of the men of the _Surprise_ and Tom shaded his eyes to see him on the mainmast's crosstrees. "North nor'east!"

Almost in the same instant, Tom, Rose, and Gerald Bantam raised their spy glasses to examine the newcomer. "Bloody hell," muttered the captain. "Flying the white ensign."

"Rose," said Tom, staring hard at the sails, which were familiar to him. "I think it's the _Gallant_."

* * *


	34. The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**The De'il and the Deep Blue Sea**

* * *

The reason that Tom Pullings had insisted – nearly to the point of insubordination – that he accompany the lady on this dangerous mission was to ensure that he would be there to protect her in case she faltered. Gerald Bantam had not yet noticed, but now was such a time. As well as he had come to know her, Tom saw she was exhibiting a fatal weakness when the pirate crew was liable to turn on them at any moment. This unexpected turn of events could not have been foreseen, and the lady could not be blamed. Did her children know of her past as a pirate? And Captain Hawkes, who had far more to lose than Rose Stirling… would the pirates aboard recognize him and expose his secret?

Thus, perceiving her distraction, Tom knew he had to intervene while she collected herself. Though unable to rattle the cutthroats and brigands the way she could, he could use the trick of exploiting their terror of Old Flint's ghost. "Captain, set the ship about," he commanded with more confidence than he felt.

Bantam lowered his glass and frowned at Tom and then at Rose who was still studying the distant ship. Before he could speak, however, Tom held up a hand for quiet and looked up into the rigging with a worried frown darkening his brow.

"What is it?" asked old Bantam in a hoarse whisper as he looked upwards as well.

"For pity's sake, sir, set about," Tom urged in a near whisper, and then cast a furtive glance over his shoulder at Rose. "Quickly."

To Tom's surprise, the pirate sniffed the air like a hound and swung his head to look behind him to one side and to the other before muttering an oath in a truly frightened tone and going to shout orders at the crew. Tom caught the scent of a lady's perfume – orange blossoms – as he went to Rose. "We must go," he said in a low voice.

She lowered her spy-glass and looked at him with uncertainty in her unguarded expression. "How?"

"Let the _Walrus_ retreat," he whispered, placing his hand on her arm. "One last scene to play, my sweet."

Looking up into his kind face, she drew in a deep breath and seemed to calm herself. "Will they let us go?"

"They may if Flint wills it," he told her. "I'll give the orders, but you must follow my lead. They are not afraid of me."

With a final glance at the _Gallant_, she nodded.

"Stay close to me." He went over to Captain Bantam with the lady following behind him. "You are to leave us in the gig and retreat. That frigate is coming for her, not you, and she will stop them while you escape."

"Leave you?" asked the captain in shock and confusion. "Now?"

"No," cried George Morton, striding aft to the quarterdeck. "Ye mean to cheat us out of our fair share!"

"You threw your lot in with a man who has Flint's death sentence on him," retorted Tom, but Rose stepped up next to him and he glanced at her. Was she going to handle this?

Her face was composed but very pale. "What proof did the Lubber tell you to bring? That I was done for?"

Morton hesitated, and they could see that he was thinking, probably about what kind of lie he could get away with. "Just a token," he muttered.

"And a grisly one, I should think." The two stared at each other and the air seemed to crackle between them. Tom grew more uneasy as he forced down jealousy. What was between the two of them? "A bit of skin, I imagine," she finally said.

"It were Flint's way!" he fumed, but his deep, guilty flush showed that she had hit near the mark. Still, Tom could not make out what they meant by _a bit of skin_. What could they bring to prove they had killed her? At once, his mind stumbled upon the answer and his muscles tensed: the skin with her tattoo, he realized, feeling a chill of horror run through his body like a tremor.

"How well I know," sighed Rose, and then she gestured at the sailcloth flag with the dark red rose painted on it. "Take my banner to him and tell him I'm gone to Davy Jones. You haven't much time to collect, though, so go there directly. I shall come presently to put a pistol shot in his head."

"That we shall, lass," said Captain Bantam.

"I say we put these two – " Morton gestured at the _Surprise_ and _Gallant_ with a jerk of his head. " – at the bottom of the sea, and then shall we all go to get what's owin' us."

"What's owing you, George Morton, is a hornpipe and a rope's end at Execution Dock," shot back Rose with venom in her voice.

Anger and pride finally overcame common sense: the first mate drew out his pistol and cocked it. Tom had only a moment to react, and it was too late to cut Morton down, so he moved in front of Rose, turning squarely to face the shot. Someone put out a hand to help him, Bantam perhaps, but he only managed to stumble and push Rose further aside. The ball whizzed by his head close enough for him to feel the breeze in its wake and with it, the fragrance of orange blossoms.

"Ye've got no more sense than a sea-turtle, ye miserable son of a whore!" bellowed Bantam at his first mate as Tom straightened himself. Morton stood, shocked, facing the barrels of two pistols, carefully aimed, that would not miss.

"You were warned," said Rose in a shaky voice. She aimed at his head, and there was no doubt in the minds of anyone who watched that she was capable of putting both shots between his eyes.

There was a long silence where the only sound was the wind snapping the canvas of the sails. Tom hid his confusion and looked around, for he had either missed something or did not understand. "Rose, he is not worth your powder."

"Aye, the foolishness is over," said Bantam, looking and sounding strained and frightened. "We never meant ye any harm, lass. Just this lad has too long a memory."

"Leave us here," she replied, uncocking her pistols. "Leave us in the gig, and go and get whatever payment you were promised. We are all square." She looked at Tom with tears seeping from her eyes and spoke with quiet resignation. "Assemble the men who rowed me here."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied automatically and hustled the eight Surprises down into the gig. By then, the pirate crew was back at work, setting sail to the south to escape. Rose had been left alone at the rail, and at first Tom had thought she had been gazing out at the approaching _Gallant_ but she seemed to have her sight turned within herself. Hardly a look she gave him as she went over the side and down to the waiting boat below, but once they had cast off and were out of reach of the pirates of the Walrus, she burrowed in his arms and wept.


	35. Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy

The following quote has nothing whatsoever to do with this scene, but I think it sums up Jack's attitude quite succinctly:  
'Everyone knows how I hate a woman aboard. They are worse than cats or parsons for bad luck. But quite apart from that, quite rationally, no good ever came of women aboard..."  
_The Truelove_

My dear Bean, I take my hat off to you and everyone else who endures the daily stress of teaching K-12. Very off topic, but I'm curious: what do you think of the US school system?

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Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy

Onboard the _Surprise_, Stephen Maturin, who was a Roman Catholic, attended no services but funerals, and today they were to bury eight men including Mr. Allen, the sailing master, whom he had liked very well. He would miss the long, detailed stories of whaling with the fleet in the Pacific, for he had a great fascination with whales; more than that, he would miss the man, his merry company, and his colorful language.

Washed and shaved, dressed in his best coat, he came up on deck early to pay his respects to the fallen along with another motive: he wanted to have a chance to meet the captain of the _Gallant_, someone who had known Rose many years, had known her husband, and by her own words, had been "a great friend" of hers and her husband's for many years. He and some of his officers were due to come over to attend the service and dine with Captain Aubrey.

Captain Hawkes, a tall man in his mid or late thirties, climbed up the side with the natural ease and grace that most sailors possessed. "Good to see you, Aubrey," he greeted as he swept off his hat. As Jack bowed in response, Stephen was unable to keep from staring at the man. The captain of the _Gallant_ was a striking man with strong features and a dynamic presence that made it difficult to look away. The breeze ruffled his longish, shaggy black hair and he grinned, a lopsided half-grin with the devil himself dancing in his mischievous dark eyes – without a doubt, Stephen knew that this man was a close relative to Rose. They had the same charismatic brilliance, the same easy confidence, the same ram-you-damn-you manner, the same _exact_ eyes….

A lieutenant was just vaulting over the rail as Jack began to introduce Pullings and the others. Stephen had to hide his curiosity as he made his bow to the captain and spoke the correct words. The talk among the men was that Hawkes was Admiral Bellows's son. Stephen's mind raced: what relation was he to Rose?

Before the introductions were done, before the third man had quite climbed aboard, there was a soft rustle at the lady's approach. It was easy to see that she suffered; although she no longer looked haunted and exhausted as she had the previous day, she was pallid, subdued. Her face lit, though, when she saw Hawkes. "David!" she cried breathlessly, rushing to him.

He laughed and embraced her with practiced skill – no stranger to having a woman in his arms. "Not in command yet?" he asked in mock surprise. "Why, I'd thought such she would have supplanted you by now, eh, Aubrey?" His tone was joking but also tender and affectionate.

The warm comradeship suited Jack, who laughed easily. "She did for a time, actually," he admitted. "To put us over the reef."

"No doubt, no doubt," said Hawkes with a grin, but the expression in his eyes was one of concern for the lady. "She was ever besting Theo and me."

"Were you raised together, then?" asked Jack, and Stephen tried putting together the pieces. Rose claimed that Admiral Bellows had aided her, and Hawkes was the admiral's illegitimate son….

"To be sure, though our Crimson Rose was the best of the lot."

"Fie, David," replied the lady in a tremulous voice.

His wicked charm abated and Hawkes placed one arm about her shoulders. "Come now. Let us take our places as we lay our comrades to rest."

Without speaking, her eyes fell and she nodded. Then she looked at him through the haze of terrible grief that swathed her.

"I am told that the sailing master's death has hit you very hard."

Thinking of poor Mr. Allen, her much-admired friend, so grave and peaceful now, her head drooped under the weight of grief. Still, she said nothing. In the same instant, some movement caught her eye and her head snapped up, her eyes widened, and her mouth opened wordlessly.

The midshipman who climbed up and over the railing was tiny, even to Stephen. Tall for eight, which was his age, he seemed a little white lamb compared to the cheerful, ruddy lads who comprised the usual midshipmen, the youngest of whom was twelve. He was more of the size of the ship's boys who served as powder monkeys and cook's assistants; his bearing was that of a little officer, though, a wee toy soldier, Stephen thought.

"Welcome aboard, Stirling," said Jack in a kind voice, and the little fellow had to tilt his head back so far to see him that he put his had up to keep his hat from tumbling off his head.

"Thank you, sir," replied the child in a piping voice. Straight he stood, straight and slim as a little sapling with round black eyes and a mop of dark curls lightened by the sun.

"Here's someone to greet you, lad," called Captain Hawkes, giving Rose a little push towards him.

"Christopher," she murmured, going to him, as tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

"Mama!" he exclaimed in shock.

Rose sank to her knees and enfolded him in her arms. His hat tumbled to the deck. "Darling..." The depth of her grief now seemed altered, assuaged, healed almost, with the sweet balm of her happiness at this meeting. The unexpected sight and embrace of her child balanced against the pain of losing her friend without chance of reconciliation. As life always went, the sorrow melded into the joy and was much of the same thing: an expression of the heart's fondness wrought either by loss or gain.

The most gentlemanly thing to do would have been to leave them, to allow this moment to be private; however, no man of the officers and crew as much as averted his eyes. At first, the boy hugged her, but he grew self-conscious right away. "Mama," he complained, pushing against her.

It interested Stephen to study the reactions of those who watched. Most watched with grins, and Pullings beamed affectionately; Hawkes, though, seemed to be studying the men around them. "Well," said Jack, smiling. "Well," he said scratching his head.

Now, the lady was sitting back on her heels, holding the child at arm's length, and studying his face and appearance. "You've grown an inch and a half, at least," she said.

"Ma_ma_," he whispered, stiff and blushing, as he looked around at the men who watched them.

"Oh! Do forgive me." She got up but kept hold of the boy's hand. "I'm sorry, captain, I'm afraid I was a bit overcome."

"Yes, well, that's perfectly understandable," he answered, and then looked around as if he wondered what to do.

"Perhaps Mrs. Stirling may visit with her son for a while," Stephen suggested.

"Yes, yes, of course," said Jack in some relief. "You may sit in the Great Cabin – my compliments, ma'am."

In a moment, the boy had retrieved his hat and they were gone below. With time to speak together, Jack arched a brow at Captain Hawkes. "Would you consent to switching the lad for one of our mids here?"

"Hardly!" he chuckled. Then he added in a voice very low so that the others couldn't overhear. "He's had a terribly hard time. It wouldn't do to start over again with a new lot."

Jack nodded to signal his comprehension. "Like having a little lieutenant."

Captain Hawkes grinned, seeming both diabolical and highly estimable. Neither Admiral Bellows nor his son the commodore had this quality. Who had the mother been? "With a good start in mathematics. Better than both the master's mates and the third lieutenant. I hear that his elder brother is ready for command – at all of ten."

Jack nodded in agreement, for officers and hearty seaman were produced by experience as well as training, and it was a sad truth that a little child could outmatch a man three times his age and yet be hardly weaned from his dam.

"Much has happened here," went on Hawkes, artlessly and yet possessed of brash charm. "You must realize that Rose is like a sister to me. Can you share some of your tale, eh, Aubrey?"

"I can and shall. Dine with me, then – you and your officers. We may have a word afterwards."

"How kind," replied the captain of the _Gallant_ with formal politeness, but his expression was friendly and warm. "I look forward to it."


	36. Captain Hawkes of the Gallant

It;s been hard to find time to write anything with all my summer school work. Sorry for the delay and for not being able to say much.

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**Captain Hawkes of the _Gallant_**

After the funeral services had concluded and the officers had dined, Stephen sat with Jack, Tom Pullings, and Captain Hawkes in the Great Cabin with coats set aside and glasses in their hands. The whole day had turned out to be just as interesting as Stephen had hoped, and the arrival of little Christopher Stirling had done much to pierce his mother's grief. Now, as he sat listening to the captain of the _Gallant_, Admiral Bellows's illegitimate son and obviously someone closely related to Rose Stirling, he wondered if Hawkes was the son of Lily Flint and Admiral Bellows.

"We put in at Kingston shortly after your troubles there," Hawkes told them. "By thunder, lads, you've had your slice of it, haven't you? Well, I knew your cruise from the admiral, of course, and such news boded ill. Boarded in a friendly port!"

"They came to execute Mrs. Stirling," said Jack. "The price on her head among pirates and smugglers is ten thousand pounds."

"Ten thousand?" he repeated in disbelief, staring at Jack. Then he shook his head slowly. "Those papers must be damning, to say the least! Does she know?"

"She knew in Savannah, but then it was five thousand."

The captain of the _Gallant_ could not hide his surprise. "Savannah?"

"We went there to interview an old pirate who served with Flint – her father – and collect a map of the island."

"An old pirate?" asked Hawkes with great interest. "Whom do you mean?"

"An old fellow called Terayen. Apparently, he was Flint's steward. He knew her very well indeed."

"Terayen." As captain Hawkes repeated the name, Stephen studied him. _He knows him_, he thought. _Hawkes knows Terayen_. "This is all a bit overwhelming. Perhaps I may hear the tale from the beginning?" The utterly disarming manner of the man was so much Rose's that Stephen shivered. Had they been closer in age, he might have imagined them to be twins. But how was it possible? He recalled Rose's words after the attack in the Port of Kingston: _"my parents were both born gentlefolk, for my mother was the granddaughter of a viscount…"_

Stephen's mind turned over the question as Jack began to tell the story of the visit to Savannah; when he was done, he left the tale of Kingston, the man in the green coat, and the attack on the Surprise for Tom to tell. The lieutenant spoke hesitantly, as was his way among strangers. The other man's dark eyes pierced him with a keen glance: Stephen imagined that Hawkes realized Tom was not entirely objective when it came to Rose. The poor lieutenant could not dissemble and probably had never considered doing such a thing.

When that bit of the story was over, Stephen added the little he had discovered after following the man in the green coat. Jack went on to tell them something of what had occurred on Flint's Island, but curiously, he left out the bit about the treasure they had found.

"So, you've learned the secret of the reef?" asked Hawkes.

"Well, it was our poor sailing master who took the knowledge with him, though any of us could attempt to duplicate the feat. Not that I'd like to try if I didn't have to." He shook his head as he recalled the dangerous entry into the narrow inlet of Flint's Island. "Now, we're for Nassau, I'd say, unless you have other orders from the admiral."

Hawkes did not reply right away; he studied Jack for a long couple of seconds. "You are certain you got everything?"

Jack frowned at him. "Quite certain – a whole case full of parchment and the scoundrel's account book to boot."

"I do not think that Captain Hawkes was referring to the papers," Stephen said.

The other three men turned to him, and a slow grin spread across Hawkes's face. "You're a quick study, there, doctor. Aye, there's little I don't know of this, and I know of Old Flint's loot and that Rose wouldn't touch it to save her own life."

"Yes, well, we have that as well, to be divided as with all other prize money," replied Jack looking rather more guarded than he had before.

"Don't think I mean to deny you your prize, lads. But if things had been different, well, that lady would have been my passenger and you'd have yourself a handy little mid." He grinned round at them.

"Why was Mrs. Stirling sent on the _Surprise_?" asked Stephen. "Surely, she would have been more comfortable on the _Gallant_ with you."

"Well, the decision was made to split up the wee lads, and that she had to go fetch the papers alone. Admiral Bellows judged, quite rightly, that it was too dangerous to send them together. Well, she wouldn't let either of them go with strangers, they were sent with Theo and me. That left precious few captains handy whom the admiral knew he could trust, and Aubrey, you were both handy and reliable. And Lucky," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

They all smiled at the joke; however, Stephen felt uneasy. Something was being concealed, and he could not get a measure of Hawkes honesty. What wasn't he saying?

The final story was Tom's to tell: he gave his report of what had occurred onboard the _Walrus_. Having just heard the story the previous day, Stephen watched Hawkes as carefully as he could. The names Bantam and Morton seemed to be familiar to him, but the most curious thing happened when Tom told of the hint of orange blossoms he had twice detected.

"_Orange blossom_?" repeated Hawkes in a strange tone and with a dark frown. As an afterthought, he added, "Was there some other woman on board?"

"No, sir. They couldn't have kept any secret on that ill-run ship. No discipline and plenty of insolence. Our crewmen were the only sailors worth a tuppence, save for firing the guns."

"Has Rose said anything of this?"

"Not yet, sir. Under the circumstances… Well, the doctor said not to trouble her for a bit."

Hawkes nodded as he twisted the stem of his glass round and round upon the table. "And, were you able to discern who threw the marlinspike?"

"No, sir," replied Tom. "Well, at least it was not one of our men. I expect one of the pirates dropped it at the opportune time."

Hawkes sat frowning at him and scratching his chin as he thought it over. Eventually, he nodded and Tom was able to go on with the rest of the story.

As the men were finishing off what was left in their glasses and reaching to put their coats back on before going up on deck, Stephen's mind was working. Should he mention his concerns to Jack? There was an unspoken agreement between them to never discuss the men – Stephen hated to be an informant – but in such a dangerous situation involving murder, piracy, treason, and more money than he could imagine, was it not wiser to speak and err on the side of caution? Somehow, his instincts told him not to say anything, to wait and see. Observe Hawkes a bit longer and maybe see what Rose had to say. He had had his suspicions about _her_, he remembered with a self-mocking smile.

"Sir, may I beg a moment to speak to Captain Hawkes?" asked Pullings, looking both earnest and deeply embarrassed.

Taken completely by surprise, Jack glanced from the lieutenant to Hawkes and back again. "Eh..." Hawkes himself arched one black eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest expectantly. When Jack looked at Stephen the doctor gave him such an arch look that he found his voice. "Why, of course, of course you may Tom."

Once they had left the pair alone and gone up on deck, Jack stood watching as Stephen lit himself a cigar. "What the devil was _that_ all about?"

"Well," Stephen puffed on the cigar to get it started. "Captain Hawkes is the closest thing that the lady has to a male relative. I believe Tom intends to ask for her hand."

* * *

"Forgive me, sir," said Tom nervously as Hawkes fixed him with a very curious and somewhat amused gaze. "I didn't know if there would be another chance to speak with you, you see." 

"I am agog with anticipation, Mr. Pullings," replied the other man with a slight edge of sarcasm in his voice as he leaned back in his chair and watched Tom the way a spider watches its prey tangled in a web.

"Well, Mrs. Stirling… she told me that you are her brother, you see."

A look of shock flickered across Hawkes's face. "The devil, you say!"

"Well, sir, she told me in secret," Added the nervous lieutenant, "never to be spoke of, you know."

Hawkes was sitting up straight now, and there was neither amusement nor sarcasm in his appearance. "I see," he replied in a low, melodious voice. "Well, then. I can imagine what it took to gain her confidence, and I say that only the lowest of dogs would take unfair advantage of a defenseless woman."

In complete stunned silence, Tom's mouth fell open and he stared at the other man without the ability to make a coherent sound. Whether it was the murderous look in Hawkes's eyes or the chilling calm in his voice, Tom could not guess, but the painful cold wash of fear flooded him and left him unable to speak and struggling to even think.

The captain's lip curled into a sneer and his eyes flashed. "Very well, you've seduced my sister and taken a share in our father's blood money – you can't imagine there's anything you'll get from _me_, you pale-skinned bastard. I'll see you to Davy Jones before I'll give in to blackmail."

Blood drained from Tom's face, leaving him white. The man's voice had hardly risen louder than a normal conversation, but his tone was vicious. Like facing a wild beast unarmed, Tom thought, the man was deadly! Was _this_ what Flint had been like? "No," Tom managed. "No. Captain…"

"You don't think I can do it?" Hawkes smiled now, and Tom felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. "Are you demanding I play the gentleman andmeet youat dawn? A faithless cur like you deserves no such courtesy."

"That's not – please, sir," Tom stammered. "The lady says she will marry me. I – I – I… well." He managed to swallow and clenched his sweaty palms into fists. "Forgive me, sir, I have spoken badly. I wish to ask your blessing, you see. She has already agreed, but I thought I…" He trailed off rather miserably and shook his head. "I don't mean any disrespect, sir. I passed my word and won't speak of your secret. I just wanted to say that's why I knew you're her brother."

With a frown, Hawkes sat back to study the man who sat across from him. It was impossible to say what he was thinking, but he no longer looked like a predator. "Rose has agreed, you say?"

"Yes, sir. Well, that lady…" Tom sighed and wiped his palms on his knees. "To be honest, she's a bit like a wolf with her cubs. You know – fierce. But she could use a bit of looking after."

Amusement glinted in Hawkes's eyes now, but he maintained a cool expression. "And you want my permission to marry her?"

"With respect, I don't think that your permission is necessary, sir, but I did think that the lady would want you to share in her joy."

Now, a tiny smile hovered at the corners of his lips and he regarded Tom with his familiar eyes. "It seems as though I owe you quite an apology, then."

Relief flooded Tom like a deluge and he exhaled a huge sigh. "No, sir, as long as I haven't got to face you over dueling pistols."

The tiny smile melted into a broader grin. "I should think not," he said and then stopped to study Tom again with a rather thoughtful expression. After a moment, he nodded. "Well, that girl _is_ in need of some looking after, you're right there.


	37. The Admiral and the Commodore

Sorry about the long, long time MIA. I had my hands full with Zoology and a bunch of idiots in my lab session. There were eleven boys and four girls in the class, and the girls had no problem with the dissections. the boys, on the other hand, were the biggest bunch of squeamish babies I've ever seen. What the heck are people like that doing taking Zoology?

Rant over. I'm not fully recovered yet from my hellish summer session, but I'm getting there.

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The Admiral and the Commodore

The _Phoebe_ and the _Tenerife_, fitted with prize crews and with the pirates imprisoned in their own brig, sailed off for Kingston. Together, the _Gallant_ and the _Surprise_ turned towards Nassau and made fine time with the snapping trade winds that heralded the onset of hurricane season in the Caribbean. Young Christopher Stirling went back to his ship to attend his duties, and poor Rose took to spending half the day lying abed and stopped eating breakfast altogether. When she came up on deck, she sat silent and morose in her usual place watching the sea rush past and lost in her own thoughts. Stephen sometimes spoke to her about a certain bird or sea creature he saw, but her mood was so foul that they often sat in silence for hours and hours. Because she looked terribly pale and wretched, Stephen asked to examine her for some kind of island fever. This resulted in such a savage response that he felt as if the lady had nearly snapped his head off.

Now and then, Pullings would come and sit with her, and his presence seemed to cheer her a bit. If it could be called cheering, Stephen thought as he watched them one day. No, not exactly cheering, but he seemed to have the ability to draw her from her melancholy, if only a little. To Stephen's surprise, though, he heard them one day talking a bit together, and although he was certainly not eavesdropping and was actually trying to ignore what was said, he could not fail to understand what was passing between them. Tom was insisting that they be married in Nassau, and Rose agreed with one condition: that the wedding occur _after_ Colonel Pitt had been taken into custody and when they were all safe.

Thus, the days passed in a kind of bright daze, for the dog days of summer were upon them and the sun was intense, but the lady's serious melancholy cast a pall over the ship. The one good aspect of the voyage was that they were making cracking good time.

The Bahamas, located in the balmy southernmost waters of the North Atlantic rather than the Caribbean, had thousands of little islands and cays, most of them either uninhabited or home only to the natives. As the _Surprise_ followed the _Gallant_ through the mazelike intricacies of the waters around and between them, Jack muttered tersely to Stephen that he hoped "that daredevil", meaning Captain Hawkes, knew where he was going.

It was with some surprise and not a little relief that they came upon a sheltered inlet, deep and quite invisible from the open sea, where another ship was waiting – the _Coventry_, a 74-gun ship of the line, which was supposed to be, by all reports, currently in the South Pacific.

"I'll be damned, sir," said Pullings to Jack as he lowered his spyglass. "They're flying an admiralty flag above the commodore's"

"Damn that bastard, Hawkes," said Jack to Stephen. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Are you sure he is entirely trustworthy?"

At first, Jack glared at him, but then he shrugged. "I believe he is intensely loyal, but I don't necessarily trust him."

"Is he really the admiral's son?" Stephen pressed.

"Yes, certainly. It is hardly an open secret." He fixed the smaller man with a pointed look. "You think he's hiding something?"

"That is hard to say," he began slowly, "however, he certainly knows Rose much better than she originally said."

"Well, the woman feeds us information with teaspoons, yet she has proven herself, I'd say."

Commodore Bellows sent his compliments and asked Captain Aubrey to come aboard for a meeting along with his passenger and the papers they were carrying. Jack sent back word that Dr. Maturin and Lieutenant Pullings would also be joining them, for they had key information to share.

Rose's bad mood lifted slightly with the promise of seeing her elder son again. She still looked pallid and weary and made no opposition to being sent over on the bosun's chair whereas Stephen complained bitterly of being subjected to such an indignity.

On deck of the _Coventry_, he found them all waiting as Captain Hawkes, looking as arrogant and devil-may-care as ever, climbed up from his own launch; however, his grin disappeared when he caught sight of Rose.

"Are you ill?" he asked. "You look like shite."

"How charming of you to notice," she replied in an icy voice, hardly sparing him a glance as her eyes swept the deck and the rigging for a certain crewmember that she seemed not to find.

As soon as Stephen was free of the dratted device, a junior officer led them all down to the commodore's cabin. The gentlemen stood aside to let the lady enter first, and she smiled and embraced both of the men who waited there. "Sir, how happy I am that you are here. Theo, it is good to see you. Where is Silvester?"

"Attending his duties, one would hope," replied Commodore Bellows. He was a trifle shorter than Rose, on the portly side, with fair colored hair, prominent features, and bright, calculating grey eyes.

"You are not looking your best, my dear," said the admiral with a frank look of concern. He was taller than the commodore by a few inches and had darker eyes; otherwise, his son was his image.

"So I've been told," she sighed with an arch look at Hawkes.

"Have you been ill?" he pressed.

"A little, but I am on the mend." There was a finality to her tone that made it clear that there would be no more talk about her appearance. "Can I not see Silvester?"

"Presently," said the commodore as he approached the other men. "David," he said by way of greeting to Hawkes. "Jack."

They bowed, and Jack introduced Stephen and Tom Pullings to both Commodore Bellows and the admiral, and very shortly, they were all settled around the table with glasses of wine.

"Can I not even say _hello_ to him? Just for a moment?" pressed Rose.

"As I said," replied the commodore with a slight hint of impatience in his voice. "Shortly."

"Oh, for God's sake," swore Hawkes in that rough and golden way of his. "Let her see the lad. The poor thing's been out of her mind with worry these months."

Before the commodore could answer, the admiral agreed with Hawkes. "Let her see the boy for five minutes," he said. "Then we shall talk."

Only for a fraction of a second was there any hesitation. "Of course, of course." said the younger Bellows as the door opened to admit the marines who were bringing in the wooden chest containing Flint's papers. "Come along, Rose, and see him."

"Thank you," she said to the admiral before leaving with his son.

When they were gone and the marines had withdrawn, Jack opened the chest and began to pull out the sealskin pouches. "We have not opened but one, but it seems to be letters and other documents protected against the weather in sealskin. There's also the account book." He placed a small, bound leather volume on the table.

Old Bellows looked at it with a frown for a long moment and them picked it up and thumbed through it. Almost immediately, he set it down and fixed his gaze on Jack. "Well, Aubrey, you've done well."

"Yes, sir, but with your permission – we've had more than our share of trouble."

The admiral looked at the four men and nodded. "Where that young lady is concerned, I can imagine you have. Now, you had best start from the beginning."


	38. A Father's Legacy

Glad to see Flossy is around and feeling better, and good to see you again, too, Bean. Well, school starts on Wednesday, and I wanted to get the last few chapters at least outlined before it does. Now that things are getting down to the nitty-gritty, it's getting harder to write. In the end, I hope that all will be explained.

Bean, as for little Silvester Stirling, he is every bit as adorable as Christopher, but he's about 2 years older andis thus bigger. Besides that, they look quite alike - two adorable little "toy soldiers" among the midshipmen.

* * *

**A Father's Legacy**

The commodore returned without Rose a very short time later and was in time to hear the tale of their adventures almost from the beginning. Jack told most of the story, and then Stephen and finally Tom anxiously repeated his report on what had occurred aboard the _Walrus_.

"_Orange blossom_?" asked the admiral as if he had received a powerful shock. For a horrible few seconds, he looked almost faint. "Mr. Pullings, are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

The poor nervous lieutenant swallowed and said, "Yes, sir, there is no doubt."

"You think he might have invented such a thing?" Hawkes asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice

Admiral Bellows frowned at Hawkes. "Have you spoken to Rose of this?" he asked, striving to sound businesslike but looking pale.

"No. Her grief has made her dull and taciturn, and she speaks to almostno one."

A heavy silence fell. Bewildered, Jack, Stephen, Tom, and Commodore Bellows looked back and forth between the two of them. "What is it?" asked the commodore. "What significance does it have? Was there another woman on board?"

"I don't know," said the admiral slowly. "David?"

Hawkes shook his head. "I have no idea what to think."

"There certainly was no other woman on board," Tom Pullings told them. "Such a secret could not have been kept on such an ill-run ship."

Again, there was a brief silence before the admiral got up and went over to the sideboard for a knife. "Well, then, we shall occupy ourselves with sorting through these papers. Among the six of us, it should go quickly." He reached for one of the sealskin pouches, and after cutting the thong that bound it closed, passed the knife to the commodore.

Each of them opened one of the packets and began to unfold the parchment inside. Stephen frowned down at his. There were two sealed letters. The first was a letter addressed to _Rose Flint_. "This seems to be a letter for Rose," he said, setting it aside. The other was addressed to _David Flint_. Stephen stared down at it and fought the urge to glance at Hawkes. David _Flint_? As casually as he could, he drew back Rose's letter and set this one under it. After that, he allowed himself to look up.

The others were reading or shuffling through parchments with similar expressions: frowning and disbelieving. "This one is from Ardley," Jack said slowly, naming the man who had been secretary to the late Admiral Feeney for a dozen years.

"As is this," said Hawkes.

"This is from Feeney himself," said the commodore.

"I've got one from Paul Hexley," said Tom Pullings, looking pale, for Hexley was a close aide of Admiral Stockwell.

The others all stopped and stared at him. "Stockwell," said Admiral Bellows in a near whisper, for the man had been a friend and comrade of his for forty years.

"These letters are set in order by date already," said Hawkes as he shuffled his papers. "Perhaps we should put them all together and then start a reckoning."

The admiral drew in a deep breath and passed a hand over his face. "Yes, yes, of course," he agreed. "David, why don't you take charge of that?"

"Certainly." From Jack on his left, he took one bunch, and from Jack's left, he took the commodore's bunch and filed them together. As Hawkes compiled them chronologically, the other men reached to open other pouches. Soon, the table was littered with stacks of letters and other documents, all perfectly preserved: the story of Old Flint's lifetime of piracy and murder.

Upon her entrance, Rose stopped and took in the strange and unexpected sight with wide eyes. As before, she appeared tired and perhaps a bit ill, but some sort of gentleness had dissolved the rest of her foul mood. The gentlemen who had been sitting got to their feet until she went to her chair between Hawkes and Pullings. "Rose," said Stephen. "Here is a letter for you." He picked up both letters and handed them to her as one.

"Thank you," she replied, looking at the top one before shuffling for the second one. When she read the name, she frowned, glanced at Stephen on her right, who was looking down at the next sealskin pouch to be opened, and handed it to Hawkes. In turn, he looked at it, frowned at her, and opened the seal to read it. When she opened hers, she cleared her throat.

"My dearest wild Rose,

If you have come to read this, then perhaps I'm gone to Davy Jones or have been strung up and left to sun dry on execution dock. Whatever way I went, I hope you – "

Her voice cracked with emotion, she was ridiculously pale, so she stopped reading and handed the letter to Stephen. "Shall I continue reading out loud?" he asked. When he saw her nod, he cleared his throat and began.

"My dearest wild Rose,

If you have come to read this, then perhaps I'm gone to Davy Jones or have been strung up and left to sun dry on Execution Dock. Whatever way I went, I hope you wept a little and smiled to recall me. For certain, I think on you every waking day. I hear you have a second babe, another boy now, and I'm sure your husband is well-pleased, but tell him he must give you a girl next time. How useless are sons! No, it is a daughter that becomes a man's life and joy.

"You may think that I blamed you for jumping ship when we were shorthanded. It is not true. In fact, I was right glad that you took that fine man and married him. I could not have picked better for you. I knew from the first that he was quality, and I saw the way the two of you felt about the other. In the end, I knew you would go, and I figured the lad would give you a better life than you would have had among my cutthroats and brigands, but I could not let you go unopposed and keep the ship. Had the men seen me let the prize go and endure your desertion, they would have cast me off as captain, or worse. That is the reason I fired upon you.

"What's done is done, I always say. Now, as you are reading this, I shall tell you that herein is a list of all the blessed 'gentlemen' who have done business with me. Wrapped up safe are the written words to damn them all, if you will. I cannot guess who your enemies will be when you come to take this, but believe me, all you need do is take the correct papers that correspond to your enemies' crimes to Old Sam Bellows, and sure enough, you will see the bastards tried and hanged.

"Perhaps you will not think so badly of me when you see how many men were traitors and criminals behind the hypocritical church-going Sunday faces they showed the world. After everything, your mother and I were at least honest about what we were and never turned traitor. I trust you will share this with David, and if you have the chance to tell Old Sam, your mother and I rested ever easy knowing the two of you were in his care, especially after what happened to our Ben.

I remain, eternally,

Your loving father,

JF"

Stephen cleared his throat again. "There's a list afterwards. Many men, some of them well known. Admirals Feeney and Stockwell are here as well as Pitt." He handed the list to Admiral Bellows who looked at it with a deep frown.

"Caswell, Frederickson, Remington... Massner..."

"Frederickson is still in Nassau, I think, for major repairs," said Hawkes.

The admiral passed the letter to the commodore, who read it before passing it to Jack. "What's to be done, sir?"

"Well... we shall arrest Pitt in Nassau and Frederickson if he is stillhere. And then, we'll go after the others. It will be a grim chore, lads." He drew in a deep breath and shook his head. "Stockwell! I can scarcely believe it." There was a glum pause as Jack passed the list to Hawkes, who hardly glanced at it before giving it to Tom Pullings.

"I hope you will forgive me, sir," said Rose somewhat weakly to Admiral Bellows, "but I am feeling quite unwell. I shall go back to the _Surprise_"

Before she had finished speaking, Stephen had risen from his chair and gone to place his hand upon her brow. "There is no fever," he said, but frowned as he pulled down her lower eyelids. "Perhaps you are a bit anemic."

"Of course, dear, but before you go," began the admiral, "Lieutenant Pullings reported on your time aboard the Walrus."

"I am certain that his account was perfectly accurate," she remarked, looking peaky and still seeming a bit softened by her father's posthumous letter as Stephen felt for the pulse in one of her wrists.

"I have no doubt, but the question remains: did you also catch the scent of orange blossoms?"

In surprise, she glanced at Tom. "Did you?" she asked. Before he could reply, however, she added, "I suppose you did," more slowly and thoughtfully.

"What?" whispered Hawkes, and when the others looked at him, his face was unnaturally white and there was a haunted look in his eyes.

Holding his gaze, she put her free hand on his. "I should have told you earlier."

Hawkes gripped her hand but said nothing. Stephen let go of her wrist and returned to his chair without saying anything.

Rose glanced at Admiral Bellows, who was regarding her strangely, and around at the others, who were very confused. "My mother always wore orange blossoms, both the perfume and the flowers. My father complained in a teasing way that the ship stank of them, but I think he really didn't mind."

"Your _mother_?" asked the commodore.

"Yes, it was she who tried to kill that fool George Morton with the marlinspike, for she was not trying to frighten him, that is for certain," she went on, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "And it was she who pushed Tom out of the way of his pistol shot."

"Rose, pray, tell us," said Stephen very gently, "how we came to see your mother's grave in Savannah?"

"I'm sorry, Stephen, but your scientist's mind is too narrow to comprehend," she told Stephen without malice.

"Did you _see_ her?" asked the admiral sounding oddly out of breath.

"No, but I heard her and felt her." She leaned her head in his hand. "David, if you would, please take me back to the _Surprise_."

"Of course," replied the captain of the _Gallant_, tucking his own letter into an inner pocket as he stood up.

"Shall I come as well?" asked Stephen.

"By no means." The lady rose and took Hawkes's arm, leaning heavily on him. "By the goddess, I intend to sleep twelve hours straight."

"Rose, my dear girl, when shall we speak more of this?" asked Admiral Bellows.

"There is nothing more I can say, no words of comfort to be spoken. But I will speak of it if you wish," she promised. "When all this is done."

"I shall check on you in the morning and this time, I shall expect to give you a full examination," Stephen told her seriously with a concerned frown.

"If you please," she sighed as she made her way with Hawkes's help towards the door. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

"I shall return presently," Hawkes said by way of farewell, and when the door had been shut behind them, the admiral sat looking around at his son, Jack, Tom, and Stephen.

"Excuse me, sir," said Jack, "but in Flint's letter, when he says _David_, does he mean Captain Hawkes? And who is Ben?"

At firs, Admiral Bellows sat gazing at each of them, thinking; then he rubbed his hand over his face and heaved and enormous sigh. "Unfortunately, we shall have no answers to those questions and others tonight. I am afraid that we must have poor Rose tell us more, so we will wait. For today, let us set ourselves to sorting these papers and preparing the case against each man for smuggling, murder, or treason."

"Or all three," added Stephen.

"Yes, indeed, doctor," said the admiral. "And tomorrow, the _Surprise_ and the _Gallant_ will sail into Nassau to take Pitt and Frederickson if he is there. Theo will bring the _Coventry_ in at the next tide. In addition, we shall have Rose onboard with us – for safety's sake. We cannot be too careful after the attack of the pirates in Kingston, for they've certainly been to Nassau first and who knows what they've told Pitt."

"Of course, of course," said Jack.

"If Mrs. Stirling is as unwell as I believe she is, well, then I shall stay with her," said Stephen.

"I would be much obliged if you would," replied the elder Bellows. "To me, she looks like one who has malaria or some such tropical fever."


	39. Farewell

This chapter is just a little setupfor the next one.  
I think I've worked out what's going to happen in Nassau, but now that school's started again, I'm going to be rather busy. Now the problem is to actually write it. :-P

**

* * *

**

Farewell

By the time Stephen returned with the others to the Surprise, it was late in the evening. The three crewswere permitted to visit between ships, and it was noticeably quiet onboard since most of them were enjoying a rousing celebration in the fo'c'sle of the _Coventry_. Before retiring, he decided to take a chance and check on Rose; he found her awake and lying listlessly in her cot looking peevish and tired.

"Did you sleep?" he asked as he felt her forehead.

"A bit." She watched him with a frown.

"And have you eaten anything substantial?"

"By the goddess, Stephen, there is nothing wrong with me."

"I shall be the judge of that," he countered as he probed the sides of her neck to check for the swellings that indicated infection. "My dear, your grief for dear Mr. Allen, profound as it is and as much as I respect it, should not be making you this ill."

"Stop that bombastic nonsense. In this circumstance, I am the expert," she insisted.

"What do you mean?" He again reached for her wrist to feel her pulse.

"Only one simple fact: the only thing the matter with me is that I am with child. It is not a fatal condition, and I do wish you would stop fluttering about me."

Her revelation caught his attention. At first, he nearly asked if she was certain, but he had no doubt that she was. Asking such a thing of one who had successfully borne and delivered three children would be a terrible offense. "I see. Well, I am relieved that you have not contracted a fever. Is it usual for you to have the experience of weakness and nausea?"

His manner, agreeable, professional, and completely accepting of her condition, seemed to satisfy her and to lessen her sharp crossness. "Yes, during the first few months. I shall not be able to eat breakfast for some time, but it always passes as I become accustomed to it."

Very carefully, he palpated her abdomen. "You are, of course, quite correct when you say that you are the expert." He stopped and looked seriously at her. "I always keep private my consultations, and so I shall with you; however, you are quite obviously ill. We are to go to the _Coventry_ at noon tomorrow, and I will tell them that you are ill and must be left alone."

"Tell them what you must," she sighed.

"May I assume that you have informed Lieutenant Pullings?" he asked casually.

"Not yet. I shall tell him after this dangerous business is over."

Taking a seat in the chair, Stephen slowly stroked his chin. Of course she must know that the man might not survive the mission ahead. In that case, it was better for them to take their marriage vows right away. In the event that Tom was killed, at least she and her child would have the protection of his name and whatever pension his widow was due. On the other hand, Stephen was quite positive that the daughter of Flint and Lily would care nothing for a respectable name and a steady income. After having rejected her share of Flint's blood money – by right, it had _all_ belonged to her – the lady could hardly care for a few shillings a month.

It was as if she had read his mind. "I have shared this with you not only because you are an infernal pest that irritates me beyond the patience of a saint but also because you are a trusted friend. I know you'll not speak of it to others, but I also trust you to spare me advice no matter how well meant."

"My dear lady, how could one such as I even begin to advise you?" he asked with a laugh. "No, I am hoping to convince you to eat richly when you are well enough to supplement the missed meals. Beef, red wine, fresh fruit and vegetables as often as possible. These things and plenty of sleep and fresh air. Perhaps a bit of light exercise, such as walking."

"Goddess protect us, you are insipid as a little girl," she snapped.

He flinched physically at these words as if she had struck him. For a brief moment, his hurt showed starkly on his face before he was able to mask it, but it had been enough.

"Stephen – no. Forgive me. I did not mean that."

"Yes, I know," he assured her.

Now, she sat up, and she looked fierce and pale with dark circles around her eyes and little red blotches of passionate emotion on her cheeks. "No, I did not mean that. You are the truest of friends. I don't know why I said that."

"You said that because of your delicate condition," he replied with a real smile. "It is typical for you to be in a foul mood, as you know."

In response, she rolled her eyes, but she lay back again, and the moment had passed.

* * *

Late in the morning, Stephen waited for Rose to make an appearance. She had been too ill to get up earlier but she had eventually washed and dressed in preparation for their transfer to the _Coventry_. The men had already sent her sea chest and other belongings along over to Commodore Bellows's ship. Now, she was saying her private farewell to her fiancé and every man on board had come up on deck to give them complete privacy.

It was not long that they waited for Tom to lead the lady up on deck; from the lieutenant's manner, it was obvious that she had not told him about the child. Not that Stephen had expected her to change her mind, but one never knew in such situations and he had hoped that she would realize that he had the right to know before going to face danger and possible death.

Before departing, Rose went to the quarterdeck with Jack. "I am not one to interfere in your running of the ship," she said to him in a low voice that could not be overheard, "but I must ask you something."

"What is it?"

"If it is at all possible, please keep Tom out of harm's way. I know he is as brave as a lion, but my heart misgives me on this whole wretched cruise."

There was no reply at first and he merely studied her with a frown. Damn the woman. He considered her the most infuriating of females, which was saying a lot, but he genuinely liked her and felt sorry for her despite her appallingly uncouth independence. Damn her!

"I shall do what I may," he replied, "but you know the risks as well as I do."

The serious frown on her face deepened and she nodded. "I suppose I should blame myself for not falling in love with a coward."

There was nothing for it: he had to laugh. "You've a bit of an easier time than a sailor's wife, though, being a sailor yourself."

She smiled as well and pressed his hand. "Good luck, Jack. May the goddess look after you all."

Leaning down to kiss her upon the cheek, he said, "I _will_ do what I may, my dear. Don't fret yourself."

With a real smile, she nodded and turned to go. Stephen was waiting for her and she reached up to kiss Tom one last time in front of everyone – they all watched with grins. And as soon as the lady and the doctor were gone to the _Coventry_, Jack gave the order to signal the _Gallant_ that they were ready.


	40. Toy Soldiers

18 credits Bean? Holy crap! Why torture yourself that way?

I expect that reading this is going to be hard for Legrace. This is about as "angsty" as I get, I think.  
Although I think David Hawkes is a very attractive, sexy man, I would never fall for someone like that in real life – no way! As you all know, I like the more gentle, sweet type. I stuck on my DVD of M&C for the first time in months and remembered how much I fancy "movie Stephen". Sigh.

I have been watching "Rome", and I am amazed at how much sex they can show on TV. You are right, Legrace, Marc Antony is foul, but he certainly looks good.

**

* * *

**

Toy Soldiers

The _Coventry_ provided her guests with quarters far larger and more comfortable than the cramped little cubicles with flimsy walls that they endured on the _Surprise_. Stephen sat playing cards with young Silvester Stirling as Rose reclined in her cot watching with a smile. The boy was a clever young fellow at ten years old, and although he seemed a bigger version of his brother, this one was more confident. Something sly, something secret in his manner reminded Stephen of Captain Hawkes, but there was another aspect new and strange. Unlike Rose and David Hawkes as well as little Christopher Stirling, whom Stephen had talked with a little, young Silvester valued himself greatly. Whether the conceit was justified or not was irrelevant, though Stephen thought that it probably was; however, whereas Rose and her little Christopher remained unaware of their attractiveness, Silvester not only realized it, he also made use of it. _Interesting in a child of merely ten years_. Stephen decided to ask Captain Hawkes about Richard Stirling's characteristics. If he got the chance.

The Port of Nassau could be entered from the east or the west, for it was situated in the wide waterway between the north side of New Providence Island and the south side of little Goat Island. (Now called _Paradise Island_.) Most ships approached from the north, sweeping in with the wind between Great Abaco and Eleuthera Islands; however, the _Coventry_ approached from the southeast as dusk was falling.

Both Rose and the boy felt the change in course and looked at each other. "I think I shall go up on deck," she said, swinging herself out of the cot.

"The dogwatch will be over soon," said Silvester as he slipped his arms into his coat. "I had best go and prepare. Until later, Mama. Thank you for the game, doctor."

As Stephen escorted Rose up on deck, he saw the admiral standing alone on the quarterdeck. Rose was insisting that she felt well enough, so even though he thought she looked ill, he made no argument. When they caught the cool evening breeze on their faces, she smiled at him a little. "I am glad you are here with me right now," she admitted. "Although Theo is an older brother to me, we have not ever got along as well as he and David do." Even as she was saying this, her expression changed when she saw something behind him.

When he turned to see what it was, he spotted the other two ships at anchor. The _Surprise_ looked as normal as ever; however, the _Gallant_ was abuzz with lights and activity. The 74-gun ship of the line slipped into place between them and cast down her anchors.

Leading the doctor, Rose went up to the quarterdeck where the admiral was examining the _Gallant_ through his spyglass. "What do you see?" she asked him. "May I look?"

Not having realized she had approached him, he started at her voice. "Ah... well, I see some activity on deck, and Aubrey is there." He handed the telescope to her. "Too soon to guess what has happened."

As Rose looked, she said, "Yes, I see Jack… there seems to be some… casualties. They're carrying someone below…" Lowering the glass, she looked at Stephen anxiously and wide-eyed.

"What the devil is this?" said Admiral Sam Bellows to himself, and Rose turned back to see of what he was speaking. "Theo!" he called. A longboat from the _Gallant_ was approaching them with powerful strokes of the oars.

The commodore strode over and raised his own glass to his eye. "They've spotted us, it seems."

"How could they miss us?" said Rose in a caustic tone that made the men glance at her with frowns. It was true that the massive _Coventry_ could hardly be overlooked, but the men aboard the _Gallant_ seemed to be quite busy with events on their own ship.

"Peace, my dear," said the old admiral, patting her arm. "If there was a fight, it is definitely over by now. When the boat gets here, we shall know what has occurred."

Orders were shouted as the sailors of the Coventry made fast the sails and sheets. Very soon, the longboat was beside them. A man scrambled up the side and saluted the admiral and commodore. Stephen and Rose knew him, Clayton from the _Surprise_. "If ye please, sirs, I've a message from Captain Aubrey," he gasped, out-of-breath. "The deed is done, sir, with some casualties. And I'm to fetch Mrs. Stirling right away."

"What?" The lady turned a ghastly greenish shade. "Is it Mr. Pullings? Was he hurt?"

"I don't know, ma'am. I'm only to fetch you and the doctor as well."

"The deed is done," repeated the admiral. "Does it mean that Pitt and Frederickson are taken into custody?"

"Forgive me, sir," Clayton said with another salute, "but the captain only said to tell ye that the deed was done. I know nothing of the particulars."

"Was there fighting?" asked Theo Bellows. "We've seen injured men being carried below."

"I believe so, sir, but I saw none of it." He had almost caught his breath. "And, please, sir, may I take the lady and the doctor now?"

"Who was hurt?" asked Rose sharply.

"I don't know, ma'am. I'd be sure to tell ye if I did."

"Let us go then right away," said Stephen. It was the first thing he had said.

"Now this is highly improper, not to mention a gross – " began Theo Bellows, but his father cut him off.

"No, son, let them go." Sam Bellows clasped Rose's hand in both of his. "Go now, my dear, and I shall be there very shortly."

She nodded without speaking and quickly embraced the old man and pressed a daughterly kiss upon his cheek. Before anyone could suggest the bosun's chair, however, she pulled herself over the side, drew her skirts up to her knees and clambered down, bare-legged, into the longboat. Stephen went after her with Clayton right behind her, and they set off for the _Gallant _just as he was leaping down into the boat. "He cannot be killed." Rose clutched Stephen's hand tightly. "He must be all right."

For his part, Stephen could say nothing and merely squeezed her hand in return. If there was anyone on Earth who could perform miracles by force of will, he thought Rose might be the one to do it. _But not this time_, he knew. Whatever had been done would not be undone, and their not yet knowing about it changed nothing. Jack had certainly not sent for her in such a rush to assure her that Tom was alive and well. No, if that had been the case, the message would have been to reassure her, not to bring her back without telling anyone why, without even reporting to the admiral.

If she was to face the worst, Stephen thought, he would stand beside her: there was little else he could do unless the man was merely injured with hope of recovery. In such a situation, they would send for the doctor in a hurry, not the lady. Perhaps Tom had been fatally wounded but was clinging to his last few breaths of life. Many times had Stephen seen dying patients remain alive long enough to bid final farewells to loved ones. It would explain the rush, and Jack would want Stephen there to look after the lady in her grief. What other reason could there be to hurry her over? He could not think of one. They did not need her to arrest Colonel Pitt. Perhaps they needed her to identify... some of the pirates? In that case, would Hawkes not be able to do it? For now Stephen knew that the man was Rose's brother and Flint's son. There was no reason to call her while Hawkes lived...

Another idea occurred to him with that random thought. What if it was not Tom at all who had been killed or fatally wounded?

His musings were abruptly ended when they reached the Gallant. Rose hardly waited for the men to grasp the manropes before she leapt up, skirts wrapped around herself, and climbed up the side with a dozen crewmen staring at her legs. Stephen followed as quickly as he could, and as he was helped over the side, he was immensely relieved to find Rose embracing Tom and kissing him.

The lieutenant was devoid of coat and hat, his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and even though his shirtfront and waistcoat were speckled with blood, his injuries appeared to be minor. On the other hand, he looked grim and seemed to be in pain. "Come with me," he said, taking her firmly by the arm and ushering her down below deck. Stephen followed silently feeling the icy wash of fear. By now, he expected the worst.

The decks had been cleared for battle, but now tables had been set to hold the injured and the dead. The area was brightly lit with lamps and crowded with men but strangely quiet. _Like a church_, Stephen thought, crowded but quiet with respect. One of the bodies, a pirate by his appearance, Stephen thought, had been shot between the eyes. _I wager Captain Hawkes did that_, he mused, thinking that both he and Rose had learned to shoot from their father.

There was Hawkes himself, sitting on one of the tables, bloodied, wounded in several places, unnaturally pale, but alive and in no danger of expiring, Stephen saw. He would need to be stitched sooner rather than later and had lost enough blood, but he looked ghastly and took no notice of his own wounds. What could have happened to make such a man look thus?

"No," Rose whimpered, pushing her way through the men, and Stephen followed. On one of the tables lay the tiny toy soldier. Christopher Stirling's breathing was labored and his hair was caked with blood. "No," she wailed, clutching Tom's arm, which held her firmly.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," murmured the _Gallant_'s surgeon in the surreal silence. The man licked his lips, seemingly uncertain of what to say. "His skull is fractured, but he is certainly feeling no pain. There's nothing we can do. I am very sorry."

"_No_!" she screamed, tearing free of Tom's arm and throwing herself upon the body of her child. "No! Christopher!" She buried her face against his little neck, embracing his slim form. "No! No! It cannot be!" Her wild eyes flew about over the men and found captain Hawkes. "You were to keep him _safe_! You _promised_! You gave your _word_! David!"

He nodded at her, his face grey. "I'm sorry, Rose."

"_No_! David! Tom – damn you! Damn you all! You men! And-and-and – your wars and battles, killing infants..." She wailed in acute grief, a long keening sound of pain as if rough pieces were being torn from her soul. Gathering the boy's limp body, she cradled him in his arms, a child far too small, too young to have been put in harm's way.

The officers and men stood around helplessly as she wailed. It was horribly, horribly painful to see her embracing the lifeless body of her child, to hear her heart breaking and the madness wrenching consciousness and perception from her. No one looked at her and there was no sound except those that she made and the breathing of the eight-year-old boy whose life was slipping away.

"No! He is just a _baby_! He cannot be killed! He is just an infant in this world! The goddess would not be so cruel to take _him_ from me as well!"

"Clear this deck," Hawkes finally muttered, and one of his lieutenants bellowed the order for the men began to disperse. The man himself sat watching with tears wetting his face. He looked at Tom, hoping that there would be some way to comfort the poor distraught Rose who would never be the same, would never recover from this blow.

"Let me examine him."

Rose stopped dead, stopped breathing even, and turned her red, tear-streaked face to her friend. "Stephen," she whispered with a sob. "Stephen..."

"Stand back and give me more light. All the lamps now." Professional, serious, he took off his coat and began to methodically roll up his sleeves. "Tom, take Mrs. Stirling to the captain's cabin and see that she drinks two glasses of red wine."

"You can't be serious," cried Rose. "Not for anything would I leave now."

"You will if you want me to try to save the boy's life." He raised a brow at Tom. "Do as I say, Mr. Pullings. Two glasses of wine. She won't sleep, but see that she is comfortable, for she has been ill."

"Come along now, Rose," said Tom gently, taking her by the arm. "Let the doctor do his work."

"Stephen, is there a chance?" she begged, looking wretched and afraid to hope.

"Go with Tom and drink the wine," he ordered. "I can make no judgment now and can say nothing with certainty. I shall let you know as soon as I may."

"Please, please," she sobbed. "Stephen, please..."

"Come now, Rose," said Tom, leading her half by force and half by coaxing. Somehow, he managed to convey her through the ship to Captain Hawkes's cabin. By the time the steward had brought out a decanter of rich red wine and some glasses along with a plate of cold meats and cheeses, poor Rose was silent and cold, her face a mess of sticky, dried tears. Heartsick, he knew. When he told her to sit, she did so, but when she took the glass of wine, she just held it, staring off into nothingness.

"Drink that wine, love," he said gently. "For you must do as the doctor says."

At mention of Stephen, she looked at him and more tears trembled at the corners of her eyes. She took an awkward gulp of the wine. "Will he…" she whispered. "Will he cure him? Can he?"

"He's the finest of physicians, you know that," he replied. "He'll do his best."

With a sigh, she nodded and looked down. A terrible silence fell between them, and Tom wondered what he could do to offer some comfort. He remembered their first kiss, how he had held her when she had been vulnerable and helpless. First he set down his glass. "Come here, now." He drew her over to him, guiding her, and then he lifted her onto his lap. "Rest here," he commanded, wrapping his arm around her and easing her against him. With a sigh, she settled against him and rested her head against his shoulder. Her glass she clasped in both her hands and she sighed and closed her eyes.


	41. The Truest Friend

I didn't mean it to be any kind of cliffhanger. I thought that you'd all guess that Stephen would be able to save the boy's life. I actually changed this whole chapter around. It was just supposed to be a recap of what happened and how Christopher was injured, but those darn characters Rose and David don't seem to want to cooperate with me! I swear I hardly even know what the two of them are going to do sometimes.

Rosalyn Lavoisier, every time I see your name, I think of Antoine Lavoisier, the father of modern chemistry. Any relation?

Bean, good luck with the school year. I always find that the amount of work I have to do (no matter how little) expands to fill the time I have to do it. I have a math quiz tomorrow and I haven't even started studying...

**

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**

The Truest Friend

The procedure had been difficult and the vigil long, but all had gone well and the signs were promising. Stephen had Christopher Stirling propped up on several folded blankets so that the fluid would run down from his head and prevent swelling. He checked the boy's pulse, which was slow and steady, then he felt his forehead. No fever.

In the predawn grayness, Tom Pullings made his silent way back to the surgery where Stephen sat alone. "I've brought you some vittles, sir," said the lieutenant, indicating a wooden platter covered with a rough cloth and a little tankard of ale. "Can't think you've eaten much since yesterday."

"How extraordinarily kind of you." Checking once more on his unconscious patient, Stephen lead Tom back to the little office that the _Gallant_'s surgeon was allowing him to use.

"How is the young 'un?" Tom asked as the doctor began to eat. "He looks not too bad, all things considered, and… well, he _is_ alive. That's more than we thought after the surgeon was through with him."

"He will live, I am almost certain." Stephen took a long quaff of ale. "The operation is not a new one, indeed, I have read about it in ancient texts, but it is not often performed. The boy is very young and should make a good recovery, but it is early yet. We shall see how soon he regains his senses."

"Rose finally fell asleep," said Tom. "Well, actually, we made her drink a fair bit of wine, and I think it was exhaustion that did it in the end. You have done a great service, doctor, for we all thought she would lose her mind. I think she might have, had you not been there. "

"I am glad that my humble services were effective," said Stephen. He took a deep drink and then brushed at his lips. "Mr. Pullings, could you tell me as much as you know about what occurred? I must own, I do not know any of it."

"Yes, sir, certainly. With the reports to the Admiral and hearing the others' stories, I've a better understanding of everything now, but if you'd asked me last night, I couldn't have told you."

"Has Colonel Pitt been taken alive?"

"Yes, sir, and he had nothing to do with the attack on the _Gallant_. You see, Captain Howard and our Royal Marines, along with the marines from the _Gallant,_ went to arrest him and Old Frederickson. Captain Hawkes and I were sent to the magistrates to register the copies of the admiral's warrants. It seemed as if everything was going smoothly, but Captain Hawkes thought it was too smooth, for he was wary of the pirates of the _Walrus_ who were here before us. He said that Rose had spoken to him the night before when he took her back to the _Surprise_, and some of the things she told him made him uneasy."

"I wonder what she told him," Stephen mused.

"I don't know, sir. Well, as you may be aware, Captain Hawkes has many, many friends and associates. He consulted with some men – you'd have to ask him who – and we learned that Old Bantam came and went in good faith without betraying Rose, giving the standard of the Crimson Rose and telling that she'd gone to the bottom of the sea, and the pirates were well-paid by Colonel Pitt. When the _Walrus_ left, though, George Morton and some other men stayed, meaning to gain some revenge and the treasure that they thought was owed to them. He spread the word that Flint's treasure was aboard the _Surprise,_ which was coming to port presently. Well, they were to attack the ship once the men had gone to arrest Pitt, board her, kill the hands that wouldn't join them, and take the ship with the treasure off to some secret inlet.

"Attack the _Surprise_?"

"That was the original plan, but when Morton saw Captain Hawkes, he told his men that it was Flint's son and that the treasure was aboard the _Gallant_. Morton thought Rose would be onboard as well and had designs to carry her off."

"Carry her off? Good heavens!" exclaimed Stephen. "But is it now common knowledge that Captain Hawkes is Flint's son?"

"No, sir, it is not. Leastways, not among the men, though some of the pirates seemed to know him. He told me that he had grown up with Morton and knew him very well."

"Knew Morton, eh? As Rose knew him in her youth. Interesting." Stephen took another sip of ale. "Pray, go on. What did you do when you learned of the plot to take the ship?"

"Well, we sent men to warn the _Surprise_, of course, and rushed back to the _Gallant_. When we got here, the fight was on. I think that Morton hadn't counted on such resistance from a handful of men and boys. That and he could find neither the treasure nor the lady. I cannot say precisely what happened before we arrived, sir, but the crew says the boys were fierce little fighters with young Mr. Stirling taking out quite a few boarders like a sharpshooter – a good eye and practiced hands, unlike the other mids.

"When we came aboard, there were already many dead or wounded. It was a bad fight, sir, and Captain Hawkes fought like a demon, a possessed man, even after he was wounded. When I followed him below, he had already come upon Morton who had a knife at the boy's throat, young Mr. Stirling's throat. I don't know how he recognized him. Perhaps someone called him Stirling, or perhaps he saw the likeness to Captain Stirling, for Captain Hawkes told me that the little boy looked exactly like his father. I can not say about that, but at the moment I came upon them, the villain was laughing and saying that his best revenge on poor Rose would be to kill her boy."

Stephen grimaced. Morton had certainly been right, for had the boy died, it would have destroyed part of Rose as they knew her.

"As for Captain Hawkes… well, sir, I ain't ever seen anything like it. Years ago, you may know, Morton and Rose quarreled and she shot him in the arm, or so Old Bantam told me, and told him she would shoot his balls off if he touched her. She must have told Captain Hawkes, for though he was already seriously wounded, he was cool as ice and sneered at Morton. He said that Rose couldn't have shot his balls off because he had none, that he was no man to have been bested by a woman, to have to resort to threatening a little child. Then, little Mr. Stirling – I don't know what he did, sir. He somehow grabbed Morton's knife and plunged it into his thigh. The brave little thing! Were his father alive, he would've been proud to see it. Morton crowned him with his pistol butt, then, and broke his little head, and Hawkes went after Morton in a rage. Killed him with his bare hands, he did, wrung his neck like a chicken, snapped it like a twig and told him to go to the Devil as he died. As I said, I've never seen anything like it."

"So Morton is dead," Stephen mused. "Does Rose know of this?"

"Yes, the admiral and Captain Hawkes talked with her. That, and there was quite a row between the captain and the commodore."

"A row? Between Hawkes and Commodore Bellows?"

"A vicious one, sir." Tom shook his head slowly. "I shall count myself lucky to never get on the bad side of Captain Hawkes."

Stephen smiled a little. "You are very brave, then, to willingly take him as a brother-in-law," he said, and the lieutenant grinned in response. "But, tell me, what was the argument about?"

"Captain Hawkes insisted that the older boy, Silvester, be released from service to the _Coventry_ and come here to be with his mama. The commodore was having none of it, though. Oh, doctor, it was a rare foul row, and I thought Old Hawkes was going to call him out to a duel despite all his wounds. It was lucky that the admiral was there. He told them they were both cruel and thoughtless to be acting like strutting tomcats while poor Rose was out of her mind with worry and grief for the little boy. He was quite right, of course, and I thought he'd knock some sense into the two of them if he had to."

"Mr. Pullings, sir," said a man from the door. "You're needed on deck."

"Very well." Tom got to his feet. "Forgive me, doctor, but I think that's most of the story as I know it. I may have more to tell you later."

"Thank you, Mr. Pullings." Stephen sat finishing his meal as he turned over the incredible turn of events. There had been more than luck at work here, and he recalled Rose's gentle words: _I'm sorry, Stephen, but your scientist's mind is too narrow to comprehend_.

A few hours later, the surgeon came back on duty, but Stephen refused to leave his young patient yet. He hovered over the boy, determined, despite his exhaustion, to be there when the child awoke. The day was a long one, but at last Stephen saw Christopher Stirling open his eyes. The boy was weak and in pain, but there was no fever, so he sent a message to Rose that her son would live and that she could visit him now if she promised to be quiet and gentle: _no_ kissing and petting of the injured boy.

In what appeared to be only a few seconds, the lady was there, pressing kisses upon the boy's hand and smiling at him in joy. Christopher recognized her, smiled, and was able to speak a little, very weakly. It was more than Stephen had hoped for, and he was finally satisfied that he could safely leave his young patient in the care of the surgeon.

As he prepared to take his leave, she asked him to wait a moment, and he did so in the little office, going over in his exhausted mind what he would tell her about the condition and the prospects for a full recovery. Never had he seen Rose look so haggard or sickly, but eyes were bright as she beamed at him. With great warmth, she came to embrace him and kissed him upon the face. "My dear, dear Stephen," she murmured, kissing his face and mouth while weeping and laughing. "My perfect, darling Stephen."

His knees weakened and he grasped round her with one arm while bracing the other against the table. She kissed him not hard nor deeply, but sweetly and with abiding affection, pressing soft little kisses against his mouth. Recalling the moment later, he wondered if she would have granted him anything he asked of her. He imagined she would have. As it was, awareness left him for a while and he kissed her back, savoring the mad perfection of the moment. It had been a long time since he had kissed a woman, and it overwhelmed him now.

An amused chuckled interrupted them. "If you would prefer a little privacy, by all means make use of my cabin."

Rose let go of him, and Stephen felt terribly drunk, as if he were reeling as they turned to face Captain Hawkes. "Fie, David, you are no sort of gentleman," she said. The scientist in Stephen found it remarkable that she could be so matter of fact and unaffected after such a warm flutter of kisses.

Leaning against the doorway, Hawkes grinned at the two of them. Despite his rather serious injuries, he looked quite nearly himself. "And you are just as wicked, if not more, little hypocrite. If you were not already engaged to a good man, I might have to insist that you marry the doctor."

Shooting him a look of disgust, Rose said, "Oh, go away, you rogue."

"Very well, but let me say my bit." Coming into the room, Hawkes shook the other man's hand firmly. "Well done, doctor, well done indeed," he said with a slight earnestness that seemed unusual for him. "Any man can take a life, but it is a miraculous few who can save a life. I am in awe, sir, in most humble and profound awe."

As had been the case from the moment he had first set eyes on the man, Stephen was impressed by his careless grace and fierce intensity. It now seemed ludicrous that anyone could see this man and not know that he was Rose's brother. "I am only grateful that it was not too late and that I arrived in time," he replied.

Hawkes smirked and arched a brow. "You are too modest, sir. I should like nothing better than to embarrass you all afternoon, but this shameless minx has done enough of that today. There's a bunk and a hot meal waiting for you when you're ready. You look fagged to death, if you don't mind me saying."

The last artless comment made Stephen laugh. _Smooth_, he thought, _the man pretends to be rough but is really smooth as silk_. "I am going to bed directly and shall probably sleep for the better part of the next day, sir."

"I am glad to hear it." Hawkes grinned and waggled his fingers at his sister. "And you behave yourself, lass, and don't think that our good doctor is to be a plaything for you." With a wink, he left the little office, and Rose sighed at his departure as one who was long suffering before turning back to Stephen.

"I am very sorry about that. He's a terrible rogue, and the woman that agrees to take him as a husband will have her hands filled," she began but when she looked at him, she smiled with her affection softening her eyes and expression. "However can I thank you for the life of my child?"

Not knowing what to say, he merely said, "Two things, my dear."

"Anything."

"The first is that you give your word that you will now eat and sleep properly for one in your condition."

"That is easily done."

"Also, you must tell Tom about the child."

"I shall," she promised, "but you ask very little."

"It is what I truly want from you. Now go back to the boy, and remember that he is to lie quietly for several days." Taking control of the situation, he kissed her formally upon both cheeks and departed swiftly lest he forget himself again. For sure, he was fervently relieved that Flint had not had any more children than those two.


	42. Sounds of Laughter, Shades of Life

I hope that everyone who has read this had enjoyed it or had some fun. Many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to post a review. Flossy, Legrace, and Bean especially. Thanks as well to the elegant Finrod for "guy advice" whenever I need it. Yes, there is more to tell, but that's for a another story another time. Someday, my dear Stephen will be happy! I don't know when, but it will happen when I'm ready. (Nice to see Legrace finally going back to her original name. )

Last, the inspiration I had for much of the serious stuff comes from the Beatles song, "Across the Universe". I didn't want to past the lyrics because I couldn't possibly translate the Sanskrit. To tell you the truth, I can't spell it, but I cut and pasted from an internet lyrics site.

_Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup  
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe  
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind,  
Possessing and caressing me_

_Jai guru de va om  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world_

_Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes  
They call me on and on across the universe,  
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box  
__They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe_

_Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears  
__Inciting and inviting me  
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns  
__And calls me on and on across the universe_

**

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**

Sounds of Laughter, Shades of Life

As a Roman Catholic, Stephen Maturin was not permitted even to enter a church of another denomination and was thus unwilling to attend the brief nuptials of Rose Stirling and Tom Pullings. The lady reminded him that she was not a Christian and was going through with the Church of England ceremony, as she had for her first marriage, to be certain its legality could not be challenged. Although he understood, he thought less of her for agreeing to the conventions against her own beliefs. She, however, told him he was too fastidious and she did not envy him so fastidious a God; for certain, she cared nothing one way about the Church, only that the marriage be unchallengeable.

Due to her morning sickness, the wedding was scheduled for late afternoon, which was an unheard of bit of maneuvering. Stephen wondered whether Admiral Bellows or Captain Hawkes had managed to finagle it. Or perhaps it was a combination of effort by the two shrewd men. Whatever the answer was, Stephen joined the others at the wedding supper and party held in the gardens of Nassau's Graycliff Mansion, but because of his absence from the church, he had missed something he had anticipated: the bride's reaction to her new husband's promotion.

Last night at Tom's bachelor feast, Jack and the admiral had presented their wedding gift a trifle early. Along with the task of taking the _Concordia_ back to England when the repairs were done now that Captain Frederickson was in custody to be tried for his crimes, Jack had presented Tom with his orders. Made, he was, made commander and captain of his own ship, the _Concordia_, the ship previously commanded by a traitor and a criminal. Not that it mattered. Tom Pullings had been beside himself with ecstasy with a new wife and a new child (although no one knew beside the doctor) and now captain with his own command. The ship was his only back to Portsmouth, but such trivialities did not matter now. He was captain and bridegroom, commander and father. In addition, Stephen knew (though he suspected that Tom did not) that the _Calypso_, Rose's ship from her late first husband, would be his as soon as the details could be worked out.

So much pleasure and delight had shown on his face that Stephen felt a deep and painful envy mixed unevenly with gladness for his friend, who certainly deserved such happiness. As the minutes passed, the jealousy passed into contentment and then back to envy though he was not bitter. How could he be? No, Tom Pullings deserved every comfort that life had to offer.

Mr. Mowett described the scene to him very vividly, about how when her eyes lit upon her bridegroom and saw his new coat with epaulette, she stopped and stared with open mouth. The emotion of the moment seemed to override everything as the lady came to face her bridegroom, and he gazed back knowing full well that he had finally achieved something of note, that he had finally made himself worthy of her, daughter of a notorious captain and widow of a good captain.

When Stephen saw her, he noted that she wore the gown she had made from the rich Savannah chiffon: white with twined ivy and violets. In the end, she had used white buttons, Stephen noted, remembering the way the officers had bantered with her about the color. How long ago had _that_ been? Her face was quite pale, drawn – he was glad she had told Tom about the babe and stopped his worrying – but also bright with happiness.

The late afternoon celebration became evening very quickly. Long tables and jugs of iced wine, ale, and small beer were set out for the guests; the magnums of champagne were for the ladies and officers. The voices of children – running, dancing, playing, stealing tarts and other sweets from the buffet – punctuated the more refined celebration of the adults. Eventually, however, the youngsters were sent off. Amiable Christopher embraced both his mother and his new step-father before going willingly to bed. Silvester, on the other hand, shook Tom's hand and cast a closed, calculating gaze upon his new captain, for both boys were due to sail with them on the _Concordia_. No quick affection there, and Stephen had the sneaking suspicion that there would be trouble between Rose's eldest and her new husband before there ever was peace.

In the strange light of dusk among the many tiny colored lanterns lighting the gardens, Stephen saw her alone, for once, standing apart from the revelers and smiling to herself with a delicate sadness infusing her usual joy. Around her he imagined she visualized all those who had gone from her: mother and father, husband and daughter, respected and much-admired friend. Others, perhaps, as well. Her profound air of quiet melancholy was tempered by shared cheer and rapture. Her happiness was theirs.

Unable to resist, he went to speak to her. In a way, he loathed interrupting such a moment, but he knew he could do so without censure or reproach from anyone. And as she turned to him with the light of pleasure in her expression, he knew that she would cherish him forever for saving the life of her child. Even her husband would not hold more honor with her, and for this he was very humbled and grateful.

"My days have been blessed more than cursed, to be sure," she said by way of greeting far more formally that was her habit. "Yet it remains that tomorrow I shall do without you, my friend, and I shall feel it keenly."

His smile was involuntary, for he would not have chosen to smile at that moment. "My dear Rose, with a husband and children, you cannot expect me to believe you will miss the company of a tiresome intellectual."

She glanced away. "Stephen," she said in a reproachful tone, but there were tears edging her eyes. When she looked back at him, she was more in control, but the tears clung to her lashes. "You undervalue yourself, my dear doctor, but I suspect you know that. No, tomorrow, you will be gone away on the _Surprise_ with Mr. Mowett as first lieutenant, and I shall be aboard the _Concordia. _And I shall spy some unusual bird or creature and tell myself _I must tell Stephen_. Only I shall have to write letters." Now real tears, fat and trembling, splattered upon her cheeks. "I shall miss you."

First he frowned a little, and then he smiled very slightly, without amusement. Yes, she would miss him. Yes, she loved him as dearly as any woman had ever loved him, but not as passionately, not as physically. Had it not been for the fine, upstanding Tom Pullings, would she have chosen him? No, of course not, but he still occupied a place in her heart that could not be dimmed or tarnished with time or memory for what he had given her. More than that, though, she genuinely liked him and would regret her absence from his friendship.

"My dear lady," he said, taking her hand and glancing away. What could he say? He had things he would like to ask her, but nothing to which he did not know the answer and nothing that would make any difference. No, they had shared time: long, seemingly endless days at open sea. They had shared life and death and grief and joy. Here in the violet dusk falling in the hot Bahamian autumn, extraordinary warmth and contentment surrounded them, encompassing and reflecting the limitless, undying essence of love that dwelt within and around them. There they stood when the sun had disappeared and the colored lanterns illuminated the party, clasping hands and sharing the moments. Soon enough they would be parted although there would be no farewell spoken. What words could suffice?

* * *

Later, Stephen stood with Jack, smoking a cigar and watching as the bride danced with Captain Pullings, scattering love and joy around them like glistening drops of moonlight. "If you would have told me how this cruise would have turned out when that woman first came on board," said Jack, "I would have thought you mad or fanciful, or both." 

Before replying, Stephen paused and sighed. "No," he finally said. "No, I don't think so. You would have been as hungry as ever for the mission and the events, despite knowing the costs."

"I suppose you're right." The captain reflected for a moment on the men lost and the lives changed. "And now, off to arrest these men. I shall be happy when it's done."

"Until the next assignment"

Jack frowned a little and glanced over at his friend. The doctor met his gaze and raised his brows, and then the two of them smiled at each other in easy camaraderie and brotherhood. _The next assignment_. Yes, indeed.


End file.
